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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28600167">Mugr</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_hexerer/pseuds/the_hexerer'>the_hexerer</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>A fairytale of hobbits, bears, and dwarven kings [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Eventual Happy Ending, Fairy Tale Retellings, Gossipy Hobbits, Kinda, Love Confessions, M/M, Not Beta Read, Poor Bilbo, Secret Identity, Thorin Has No Sense Of Direction</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 07:41:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>24,874</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28600167</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_hexerer/pseuds/the_hexerer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Young Bilbo Baggins has a turbulent encounter with an odd creature in the snow a few years after the Fell Winter took his parents. It had been injured and seemed to be starving, and Bilbo, in a fit of Tookish foolishness, takes it in.<br/>As it turns out, the creature is a dwarf, but dirtier than any faunt could ever hope to be, with fingernails like claws, a bearskin over his shoulders and manners like a wild beast. His frustrating guest refuses to bathe, or sleep anywhere but the floor, growls more than he talks, and keeps his many fearsome weapons constantly within reach.<br/>And when the winter storms start to rage outside, Bilbo has no choice but to share his smial with this possibly mad and rather dangerous dwarf.<br/>Just what has he gotten himself into?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>A fairytale of hobbits, bears, and dwarven kings [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2095707</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>337</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>505</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello everyone out there!<br/>I'm kinda nervous about this. I have been binge reading all of your awesome work, and finally decided to try and write something myself. So, well, here it goes.<br/>If you find any mistakes, please do tell me.<br/>*waves*</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Bilbo hurried through the snow after Rosemary Bolger and her apprentice. Despite their brisk pace the young hobbitess had enough air to inform them of every new rumor and gossip she could think of. Her teacher had probably heard about all of the latest scandals already, but made no comment and silently pushed on through the woods. Bilbo had run for her smial close to the Bindbole Wood when his neighbor’s wife’s labor pains had set in much too early. Hobson Gamgee had appeared at his doorstep, frantic despite it not being their first child, but the harsh winter so soon after the Fell Winter had everyone on edge. Bilbo had ushered him back to his own home, put on his warmest jacket, grabbed his walking stick, and made his way through the knee-deep snow that had covered the Shire since a month already in order to fetch the midwife. Now, they were on their way back towards Hobbiton, often taking shortcuts through the woods, and hoping to reach the roper’s smial in time.</p><p>“And can you imagine? A talking bear!” Marigold exclaimed even more excited than during her previous tales. “I say Farmer Maggot likes the ale at the Green Dragon a little too much, but that’s his wife’s problem, if you ask me. He swears, he saw it though. And spoke to it. Told me so himself, yes, he did. Said, the bear stole some of his preserved meats, that he hangs into the backroom of his hayrick. Dreadful old barn, if you ask me, no wonder all kinds of animals can get into it, half the backside is full of holes! But that’s his problem, whether he wants to fix it or not. Said, he found golden coins on the floor, that’s how he noticed something was off. Golden coins in a barn! Dear me, I’d be delighted to find some. But not Farmer Maggot, no not him. He was on the lookout since then, and one night he saw it! A huge creature sniffing and growling, and full of hair. Oh, I would have been so scared, let me tell you! But not Farmer Maggot! He had some rocks at hand, had been prepared. And when he threw them at the animal, it retreated and growled something that sounded just like words! “Wait,” it said, “I pay you!” But Farmer Maggot just kept on throwing his rocks and called to the thing, “Don’t you dare come back here, you monster! I will have my dogs set on you!” Which of course he would never do, because the dogs would most certainly not stand a chance against a full-grown bear, but the creature didn’t know that, and disappeared into the night. That’s what he told me! A bear! In the Shire! Can you imagine! How dreadful so soon after the wolves!” Bilbo winced. “And when I told this to my cousin Magnolia, do you know what she said? Called me a liar, she did! Can you imagine? Me, lying! Even though everyone knows, that she is omitting at least one ingredient in every recipe that she hands out! That’s a proven fact, you know. It caused quite the scandal, during last year’s spring festival, when Aunt Margarite wanted to bake the cheese and peach pie that Missus Bolger had received for helping Peony Took when she got twins, right Missus Bolger?”</p><p>Rosemary only grunted, whether due to the fast pace through the heavy snow or as an answer, was not sure, but Marigold didn’t care much either way.</p><p>“Let me tell you, that was quite the affair, Master Baggins! You know, the recipe had been passed down to Peony from her great-great-grand-aunt twice removed. A true family secret! I wonder, do you know it as well perhaps, since your dear departed mother was a Took and all? If you do, you must tell me Master Baggins, that cake is truly marvelous! I thought it a very fitting thank-you-gift from Peony. Did I tell you that she had twins? Such lovely little boys. What were their names again? I am so bad with names, let me tell you. I believe the older one was named Fredegar. They call him Freddy now. Or was it the younger one? Freddy sounds more fitting for a younger brother, don’t you think? Not that it matters much, since Freddy, if Freddy is indeed the older one of the twins, is not their oldest boy anyway. I believe the oldest is almost ten now! What was his name again?”</p><p>Bilbo sighed, tried to turn out any noise, and willed the lights of the smials of Hobbiton to come into view faster. But as it turned out, Marigold’s voice was not the worst thing to happen to him this afternoon. They were close to the tree line, when he heard a growl. But although he stopped and turned, he did not see anything amiss.</p><p>“What is it, Bilbo?” Rosemary asked, a little out of breath.</p><p>“Oh nothing,” he answered with a smile, “I just thought I heard something.”</p><p>Marigold tutted. “Really now, Master Baggins, trying to scare us so! Did you think to see the giant bear? I still don’t quite believe it was not the ale talking, when Farmer Maggot told me that story. But he was quite convincing, let me tell you. I can mostly sense, when people are lying to me, you know? It’s all in the details, the made-up stories have no details, or too many! It has to be just right to be believable, you…”</p><p>She did not get further in her explanation, for just then a huge creature stepped out from the undergrowth to their right, and snarled at the three little hobbits, who stood frozen stiff in the face of the hairy beast.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As another wolf stepped from the thicket, Rosemary breathed, “Run!” And the hobbits turned, and raced through the snow as fast as their feet could carry them. Marigold screamed at the top of her lungs. The wolves sprang behind them, and growled and panted, and Bilbo knew it would not be long before they were overtaken.</p><p>Rosemary, poor old Rosemary, twisted her leg on the uneven ground and fell into the snow, breathing hard and spilling most of the contents of her basket. Bilbo did not think, slid to a halt, and whirled around to hit the first wolf on the snout with his walking stick, bringing himself between the women and the beasts. The startled wolf sprang back, and out of the corners of his eyes, Bilbo could see Marigold frantically trying to help Rosemary to her feet. The wolf closed in on them again, so Bilbo swung his stick and gave a loud yell, trying to seem as imposing as possible for a hobbit.</p><p>‘What fun,’ he thought manically, ‘I will die the same way as my mother. More Took than Baggins after all…’</p><p>More wolves crowded around them, and even if Rosemary could walk, there would have been no more escape route. Bilbo yelled again and swung his wooden stick. He would not make it an easy dinner at least.</p><p>Another beast joined them, but this one let out a guttural cry when it charged out of the trees at full speed, and Bilbo thought for sure that he would be torn to shreds any minute now. The brown creature, however, fell upon the wolves and killed the first two nearly instantly.</p><p>As their brothers got back their bearings, and attacked the new beast with fervor, Marigold called his name softly, and Bilbo shook himself from his stupor. Together, they helped Rosemary hopple away from the fray. Soon, they were back on the path towards Hobbiton, and could even see the first smials in the distance. Rosemary refused to stop at the closest one and argued that if they had half carried her this far, they might as well make it to the Gamgees’ smial, and none of the two younger hobbits dared to refuse her.</p><p> </p><p>Once the women were in the roper’s smial, Marigold started telling their tale immediately, and Bilbo edged towards the door and fled into the cold.</p><p>When he made his way back to his own home, next to the Gamgees’, he finally allowed himself to breathe. What an adventure! He wanted nothing more than to curl up in his armchair and thank the Green Lady for being alive. He got until the parlor, when he remembered the brown beast that really was the only reason for his survival. One against so many! He wondered if it had slain all the wolves or whether it served as their dinner now, instead of the hobbits. Maybe it was injured. A fine thanks for saving their lives! His mother would have been out in the woods already, looking for the creature. Maybe it was the talking bear after all, then Bilbo could persuade it to not eat him but accept his thanks.</p><p>While he had such thoughts, he had put on his jacket once more, and taken up his walking stick. But when he stepped out the door and into the snow, he realized the stupidity of his plan. Going back all alone into the wood, where wolves lurked. Absolutely irresponsible! He turned on his heels.</p><p>When he reached for the door, however, the brown beast was haunting his mind again. While it had killed the first two wolves, he believed to have caught a glimpse of metal in the beast’s paws. But feral beasts did not use weapons. Was it not a wild animal, but a human or even a hobbit maybe? One that lived out there in the cold winter woods?</p><p>Well, he mused, turning around once again, it most probably would not be a hobbit. No sane hobbit would rush between wolves and their prey. And the creature had been about as tall as the wolves, which would rule out the giant bear, but maybe he shouldn’t give too much credit to Marigold’s assessments. He would just go to the edge of the forest. And then back to his warm and safe smial. To soothe his conscience. And he would be silent and careful. No one would even notice he was there. He was good at that.</p><p> </p><p>Bilbo gripped his walking stick tighter when he reached the first trees. He stopped and listened, and yet heard no sound. Wonderful, time to head home! But… no sound could mean that all the wolves were gone, which in turn could mean that he would be able to go further into the forest and look for the brown beast. He swallowed thickly. And took a step forward. And another.</p><p> </p><p>When he reached the battleground, for it indeed looked like a battle had been fought there, he could see no brown beast. The snow was disturbed and flecked with red. Several corpses of wolves laid about. And still no noise could be heard. When Bilbo edged closer still, he found a small trail of blood leading deeper into the woods. It had been roughly the direction from where their savior had come from, and so the young hobbit squared his shoulders and tiptoed on.</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t have to go far. The brown creature was slumped against one of the birches, not moving, and the snow around him red. Bilbo’s heart sank. Had it saved them just to die in their stead? He snuck around it in a rather wide circle, and then approached silently.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The creature breathed. Its pelt was brown just like that of a bear, but curled up as it was, Bilbo could see no more. He straightened a bit and cleared his throat.</p><p>The effect was immediate. The beast’s head snapped up from where it had rested against the bark of the birch, growling, and it moved into a different stance, one paw against the tree, ready to push away from it. The hobbit sucked in a breath and would have fled, had he not caught the eyes of the being underneath all of its dark and matted hair.</p><p>Eyes the color of the winter sky.</p><p>So different from all the dark grime and dirt and blood and hair and pelt. So different from the eyes of a beast. Make no mistake, those eyes were still quite scary, they flashed dangerously, and Bilbo could see the anger and pain in them. Well, the pain could be deduced from the blood flowing from a wound over the being’s right eyebrow and the amount of red in the snow, due to which the hobbit suspected a bigger wound somewhere else. However, Bilbo knew he had no animal in front of him, but a sentient being. One that could be reasoned with, and persuaded not to eat hobbits for dinner, right?</p><p>He cleared his throat again. “Good afternoon. I, erm, wanted to offer my thanks for, ah, for the rescue.”</p><p>The being did not move.</p><p>“Well, and I wanted to ask you, really, if you need anything? I mean, goodness, it is rather cold out, and you do seem to be injured, and well…” he trailed off. The blue eyes never left him, but the being gave no indication that it understood. Bilbo stared back at those eyes.</p><p>Suddenly the being growled, and Bilbo was sure he had, to put it mildly, overstayed his welcome, and cursed his Tookish ideas silently. But his opponent did not move.</p><p>“Ah,” the hobbit tried again, only to be interrupted by another growl, and the creature closed its eyes slowly and shifted rather uncomfortably in Bilbo’s opinion.</p><p>“Are you hungry?”</p><p>A sharp outtake of breath could be heard from the being, and it moved some more. It tried to stand, but Bilbo could see, it was not doing a very good job at that, yet he did not dare to offer help in fear of being swatted with one of those paws. The paws had claws.</p><p>The hobbit was at a bit of a loss. “Well, you know, my smial is just over there, a few minutes’ walk towards the town, and if you are hungry, you could come with me and I’ll cook you dinner. I mean, you can also stay for supper and since it’s rather cold outside and you are injured, as I said already, you could just stay and, well, recuperate, for now. As in, for the night. That is, if you want. And if you don’t try to harm me. You will need to leave, if you try that. I will have to insist on that.”</p><p>The being just stood in front of him, one paw still against the tree, breathing rather heavily. Bilbo straightened his jacket, then nodded to himself, and started to turn around. “Follow me for food!”</p><p>Determined, he marched on, listening closely to any sounds behind him. He really did not want to be attacked, simply because he turned his back. Soon, he heard the heavy breaths and rather loud footsteps following him at some distance, and he tried very hard not to think about who or what he had just invited to his home. Escaping from a pack of wolves only to be murdered in his sleep! Fool of a Took!</p><p>He carefully turned his head around and saw the being limping after him. Well, nothing for it then.</p><p> </p><p>When he reached Bag End, he waited for his guest. “I seem to have forgotten my manners.” he said, a little flustered. “Bilbo Baggins at your service.”</p><p>The being regarded him silently, and only when the hobbit started to turn in order to reach for his door, did it speak. “Mugr.”</p><p>Bilbo blinked. “Pardon?”</p><p>“I am Mugr.” it said, its voice deep and rough, probably from disuse.</p><p>“Well, erm, Master? Mugr, welcome to my smial.” Bilbo replied, and finally made to open the door. Mugr inclined what was probably his head, and stepped inside the warm home after his host.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Once inside, Bilbo started for the kitchen only to stop short and turn around in one quick move. He raised his hand and pointed at his dirty visitor. “You need a bath.” And headed towards his second-best guest bathroom. He did not get far, however, as a paw on his arm stopped him. Bilbo froze at the heavy hand with nails like claws, and could do nothing but look at Mugr with wide eyes, like a rabbit caught by a wolf. Or a bear in this case.</p><p>“No!” growled Mugr. “No bath. Food!” And Bilbo wondered whether he was going to be the food. But the other did nothing else, and slowly removed his hand from the hobbit.</p><p>Bilbo stood still a few moments more. Then he narrowed his eyes at his guest. “So, you mean to tell me, that you not only refuse to bathe, but you rather <em>order</em> food, which you will eat in my kitchen trailing dirt and whatever else is in that nest of hair through <em>my</em> home?”</p><p>Mugr inclined his head again, and Bilbo briefly pondered his chances of throwing the big lump out of his front door again.</p><p>But ere he could decide whether cleaning his own blood or Mugr’s dirt from his floors was the lesser of two evils, the big lump started to make his way towards his parlor, and before Bilbo could intervene, he had sat himself on his grandmother’s handwoven rug in front of the fire and leaned his head against one of the armchairs’ legs. At least he was not sitting in the armchair.</p><p>Bilbo, sighing, ran a hand over his face and peeked at his guest through his fingers. His blue eyes were closed, and now that he was seated, leaning back and letting his pelt fall open in the front, the hobbit could make out actual humanoid limps. Along with the hilt of a very long sword and the head of at least two axes, which peeked out from his belt. Wonderful. Bilbo, amazed at his own inability to panic by now, let his gaze trail down towards the booted feet. Not a hobbit then. Because of the hair and the size, it could be a dwarf. He really only was a good head taller than Bilbo, but much broader, as he had noted a few minutes ago, when they were standing a bit too close for comfort. Which also did not explain the rumor of a giant bear. Giant bears were a lot more gigantic than dwarves. Really, almost everything was more gigantic than dwarves. Except for hobbits, of course. Just his luck. The dwarf-bear’s stomach growled again, and Bilbo straightened up. “Right. Food. Don’t move!” he called as he left his silent guest in front of the fire. The poor thing must have been cold. Bilbo stopped again and turned. “If you take a bath, I will give you blankets! Really warm blankets.” Mugr only sighed and didn’t even open his eyes. Well, it had been worth a shot.</p><p> </p><p>When Bilbo returned with two bowls full of stew, warm mulled wine, and several slices of the bread he had baked this morning, before Hopson had pounded on his door and gotten him into all this mess, Mugr was as he had left him. Carefully he approached, and when he set down the tray next to the dwarf-bear, Mugr startled. Blue eyes flew open wide and his head turned at a speed that might have hurt something in his neck. One of the paws suddenly held a knife, and Bilbo froze yet again. More weapons. Great. Slowly, he released the tray and perched down on its other side, his back towards the leg of the other armchair. Then he reached for one of the bowls and after a short while simply began eating. He was actually quite hungry as well. Now that he thought about it, he had managed to miss both luncheon and afternoon tea. That was rather unacceptable.</p><p>“You are very quiet.” Mugr grumbled after observing him for a few more moments, and slowly relaxed. Bilbo celebrated him putting away that dreadful knife somewhere in his sleeve with a mouthful of mulled wine, and hummed in agreement.</p><p>“It’s because I don’t wear shoes.” He swallowed some more wine. For courage. “You could be silent too, you know. If you take off those horrible boots. After you have had a bath.”</p><p>Mugr actually chuckled a bit. Or scoffed. It was hard to tell. “No, I will not bathe, Halfling. Not now, not ever.” And more quietly he added, “Or at least not for a few years yet.”, not knowing that hobbit ears are quite sensitive.</p><p>Bilbo tried not to glare at him and noticed that he had not yet touched his food. “You may eat.” he told the lump. “You ordered it, remember? There is more, if it is not enough. You can eat all of it. But in about two hours, I will make dinner, so maybe you want to keep that in mind when you stuff yourself. Two hours would also be a perfect amount of time for taking a nice, long, hot soak in the tub, by the way.”</p><p>Mugr looked at him with those intense blue eyes again, as if he was assessing him, which was ridiculous, because the more dangerous one of the two of them most certainly was the big guy with the weapons and the claws. Bilbo stuffed a whole slice of bread into his mouth. Very passive aggressive. For hobbits. It probably wouldn’t have any effect on dwarf-bears, who had an unnatural aversion against being clean and displaying manners. Mugr eventually looked down at the tray of food, warily took the other bowl, and sniffed it. Bilbo felt his eye twitch. But the lump finally started eating, tentative at first, and then with abandon, like a starving man. He probably had been half starving. Bilbo could not imagine living out in the wood during winter, when no berries grew and no fruits hung on trees and all the mushrooms were covered by thick layers of snow and frost. Once he was finished, Bilbo took the bowl out of his paws and went to refill it. Only when he returned it, did he notice, that he had put himself into Mugr’s range. ‘Well,’ he thought, retreating to his place on the floor across from his fearsome guest, ‘he did not swat me yet.’</p><p> </p><p>After the third bowl, Mugr mumbled, “Thank you”, and Bilbo had to take a moment to process that, then shrugged inwardly and blamed it on the mulled wine.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Mugr leaned back against the chair again and winced, Bilbo remembered his wounds. How could he have forgotten? The rug under him was probably soaked with blood by now! That would be a hassle to clean. On the other hand, the wound over his right eye seemed to have stopped bleeding. Maybe the other one was not so bad either. Maybe all the blood in the snow was from the wolves.</p>
<p>He stood, grabbed some salve and wet a cloth. When he returned, Mugr’s eyes were closed again. Not wanting to repeat the knife incident, he cleared his throat softly. The blue eyes opened lazily, but sharpened, when their gaze fell to the cloth in Bilbo’s hand.</p>
<p>“No.” said Mugr and glared at him, which was quite impressive as one could barely make out where his face was, let alone its features.</p>
<p>“I need to clean your wounds. I have some salve to help with the healing. And all the dirt will most certainly not help with said healing.” Bilbo edged closer. “Goodness, I’m not going to wash you. This is a damp cloth, and I will only dab away the blood on your face.”</p>
<p>Mugr slowly shook his head. “No.”</p>
<p>Bilbo huffed. “What is it you have against water?”</p>
<p>“I cannot be clean. Leave it.” The dwarf-bear seemed to think of something. “If you try to clean me, I <em>will</em> hurt you.”</p>
<p>“Great.” Bilbo wrinkled his nose and narrowed his eyes at the door. Why did that door open for idiots? Both, this hobbit idiot and the dangerous, possibly mad or even rabid something idiot. Couldn’t it have just been frozen shut, after Bilbo had returned from delivering the midwife to the Gamgees. He had been inside his safe and secure little home already, but he just had to go out and find the brown beast again. Stupid, really. Doors were unreliable.</p>
<p>“Listen,” he tried again, “I will not attempt to clean you. I want to have a look at the cut or bite or whatever it is in your face, and make sure it is not in danger of becoming infected. That’s not that hard to understand, is it? I’m not cleaning you, I’m dabbing at a bloody wound. Literally.”</p>
<p>Mugr seemed to consider this, but then he said, “Dwarrow are hardy folk, Halfling. This little scratch will not kill me.”</p>
<p>“Oh, so you <em>are</em> a dwarf!” Bilbo couldn’t help but blurt out. This dwarven lump was not good for his self-restraint. “Mind telling me then, where I should burry your hardy body, once the infection has killed you after eating off half of your face?”</p>
<p>“Fine!” spat the dwarf, not quite as imposing as he could have been, were he not bleeding out on the hobbit’s rug. “You may look at the wound to see if there is anything inside. And you may dab the blood if necessary, but no more!”</p>
<p>“Why, <em>thank</em> <em>you</em>!” Bilbo replied and glared back as he, still very cautious, approached his guest, as if he was a wounded beast. Which was probably an apt comparison.</p>
<p>When he was close enough, he put the salve down on the armchair, and carefully removed whatever was hanging into the dwarf’s face. It was probably part of his hair. He swallowed a comment about that. It looked like a dark mat of felt. Disgusting. It also smelled. Correction, the whole dwarf smelled. The face was not any better. It looked like a patch of field during the driest summer in both color and texture. He would probably not have been able to clean that anyway. Would have needed hammer and chisel for that. Kind of strange that the wolves could even nick the skin. They must have had really long claws and teeth. Bilbo shuddered and started to strobe with his cloth at the presumed location of the wound.</p>
<p>After a bit of admittedly useless dabbing, Mugr twisted his head. “That is enough.”</p>
<p>Bilbo sighed. “Fine! Then let me see your other wounds.”</p>
<p>“I have none.”</p>
<p>“Really now?” Bilbo could hear his voice gaining a hysterical edge. “Then pray, tell me, where does all the blood on my grandmother’s rug come from, Master Dwarf?”</p>
<p>The dwarf tsked. Bilbo’s eye twitched again.</p>
<p>His glare at the sitting Mugr held an unspoken challenge, and the lump glared right back. His eyes really were unbelievably blue next to all those brown and gray and dirt-colors. After about a minute of stalemate, the dwarf moved. Bilbo thought, he probably got a crick in his neck from looking up at the standing hobbit. Served him right.</p>
<p>Mugr began to lift his disgustingly dirty coat, along with his disgustingly dirty leather thingy, which had probably once been part of an armor, his disgustingly dirty tunic, and a really disgustingly dirty undershirt, and revealed the right side of his disgustingly dirty stomach. At least the skin there could be surmised.</p>
<p>“That actually looks better than your face,” the hobbit murmured, sliding down next to his patient to kneel closer, “I guess that must count for something.”</p>
<p>Mugr didn’t answer, and just laid his head back onto the seat cushion of the armchair, breathing rather hard again. Bilbo, however, had no thought to spare about what kind of small creatures might crawl from the matted hair onto his wonderful armchair, for he was staring at the dwarf’s side in horror.</p>
<p>A bloody gash, almost as long as his forearm, accompanied by several smaller incisions, graced Mugr’s flank. Bilbo sucked in a sharp breath and sat back on his heels. He reached for the cloth and turned the clean side up, then he pressed it into the still sluggishly bleeding wound. Mugr barely flinched.</p>
<p>“How are you still conscious?” Without thinking he took one of the paws, and pushed it over the cloth. Mugr’s eyes watched him wearily as he stood and started walking towards the door. “Stay where you are, and press against that! I will be right back!”</p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Bilbo hurried towards the Gamgees’ smial. It had gotten dark by now, and since Rosemary had hurt her leg and had been having a very eventful afternoon, he was pretty sure that she would still be at his neighbor’s home, probably staying for at least one night.</p><p>Hobson opened the door to his knocking, immediately beaming at him. “Master Bilbo, it’s such a pleasure to see you! Goodness, let me tell you, I have another son! A handsome little thing at that. Has some hair on his feet already! Do you want to see him? Come on right in! He’s just through the door, along with the others. My dear Lila outdid herself! Truly, I say! And it’s all thanks to you for bringing Missus Bolger in time! Dear me, what a dreadful encounter you’ve had! Must have given you a right fright! Young Marigold was beside herself. She went to her cousin down in town, you must know, right after the birth. Said, she just had to tell someone about the day she had or it would boil inside her and that wasn’t healthy. Smart girl, she is. Right through here, Master Bilbo, do you want some tea? It’s gonna be time for supper soon, would you like to stay? We would be delighted, yes we would!”</p><p>Bilbo had to stop the older hobbit there. “My, Hobson, I am terribly sorry, but I have to come over for supper or dinner another time! And, goodness, I would love to see the little one, I am sure he is a treasure. Congratulations to both of you, really! But, if you’ve heard the tale from Marigold, you surely know that we only escaped with our lives because of another creature’s appearance, which attacked those terrible wolves. As it turns out, that creature is a dwarf, and he is injured. To be honest, he is in my parlor at the moment, and I wanted to ask if Rosemary will come with me, for he has an awful gash in his side, truly dreadful, and her medical knowledge is a lot better than mine, and well, I find myself in need of her help, I’m afraid.”</p><p>The young hobbit took a deep breath. He hadn’t meant to ramble, but as Hobson led him deeper into his smial, he had gained an audience, and at last even Rosemary poked her head out from one of the doors.</p><p>“Let me grab my jacket,” she said, hobbling towards him and thrusting Marigold’s basket into his hands, “and then I’m ready to go to your dwarf.”</p><p>Bilbo had no time to argue against his claim on any dwarf, bear or not, and simply decided to be glad that Rosemary was so willing to help as he walked back up the hill next to her.</p><p> </p><p>Once inside Bag End, he led her into the parlor, where Mugr laid against the armchair just as he had left him. His eyes were closed again, and his breathing was harder than before. Bilbo would have almost preferred it, if the dwarf had been up and about during his absence and trailed his protective layer of dirt into every room.</p><p> </p><p>As Rosemary returned from washing her hands and lowered herself next to the dwarf, Mugr’s eyes opened and watched her every move with a suspicious glint. But he did not react in any other way.</p><p>“Well,” the hobbitess mused, “this would be a lot easier if he was somewhat cleaner.” She held a handkerchief to her nose.</p><p>“Ah, about that,” Bilbo said, shuffling his feet a little, “it seems, he is against cleaning him in any way. No water should touch him. No idea why. But please don’t try it either. I think, he would attack you and aggravate his wounds and, really, no one will have anything from that…” He cast a side glance at the lump, who acted like he hadn’t heard him. Typical.</p><p>Rosemary watched him like <em>he</em> was the crazy one, then pulled up her eyebrows and went to work.</p><p>“Remove that hand for me, will you?” she murmured rather gently. When Mugr’s paw fell away from his side, she frowned. Bilbo swallowed nervously and crept a little closer.</p><p>Rosemary took a large bottle out of one of the baskets and wet her hands with the liquid. Then she reached for the gash and started prodding it. For a moment, Bilbo was afraid that Mugr would swipe at her with his paws. But he didn’t move. Only his eyes followed her.</p><p> </p><p>When Rosemary sat back on her heels after a while, her hands were bloody, and Bilbo hurried to provide her with another cloth to wipe them.</p><p>“Well, I’m not a healer,” she said, her gaze still trained on the dwarf’s side, “I’m a midwife. So, I suppose it is rather fortunate, that this wound is on your stomach.” She smiled a little. “I don’t think your organs are hurt. But we need to suture that. Definitely. And you might want to see a real healer later, just to be safe.”</p><p>Bilbo found himself nodding along and quickly asked, “What do you need me to do?”</p><p>Rosemary looked up at him then, and her eyes crinkled in a fond smile. She had been one of his mother’s best friends. “Can you boil some water? And I’ll need more cloths.”</p><p>But before Bilbo was out the door to the kitchen, Mugr’s voice, rough and commanding, stopped him. “No!”</p><p>Both hobbits looked at him in slight exasperation. “No water!” he spoke again.</p><p>Rosemary narrowed her eyes at him. “Well, Master Dwarf, I am not sure, how much you understand, but I need to sew this gash in your side shut. And before I can do that, I need to clean both my hands, the needle and the thread, as well as the skin into which I will stick said needle, or else I will trail something, in your case probably a lot of dirt, all through the wound. And then, after a few more days, you will be as dead as a door nail. Simple as that.”</p><p>Bilbo had crept into the kitchen by then, and set a pot of water to boil. He found some more cloths, and returned to the two of them simply glaring at each other.</p><p>After a while, Rosemary seemed to cede to the stubborn lump, and sighed. “I can clean your wound with alcohol,” she pointed to the big bottle still next to her, “but that will hurt like a bitch.” Bilbo choked on a bit of air.</p><p>Mugr seemed to think, then he pressed out, “Only alcohol. No water!”</p><p>“Yes, yes.” Rosemary started to rummage in one of the baskets for needle and thread. “No water will touch you.” Bilbo really was impressed by how unimpressed she was. But then again, she probably heard all kinds of threats and curses while helping to give birth. That hardened.</p><p> </p><p>After Bilbo had put the pot with boiling water over the fire in the sitting room, Rosemary hung the needle and thread in, using a flat ladle with holes. Then she wet her hands again with the alcohol, and started to pour the bottle’s content over the dwarf’s side without so much as a warning. Bilbo would never be as brave as her. Mugr inhaled sharply, and his breathing got heavier, but he did nothing else. Not a sound left his lips. Dwarfs really must be hardy folk.</p><p>When Rosemary set to work, he closed his eyes. Bilbo hovered a bit, unsure what to do and not wanting to be in the way, and then went for the brandy in his cellar.</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Once she was finished, Rosemary dabbed some more alcohol over the stitches, and cleaned her hands again. “Since he is filthy everywhere, we need to cover the suture, or else even all that alcohol will have been in vain.” she said as she took her glass of brandy out of Bilbo’s hands with a grateful nod.</p><p>The hobbit looked at his guest, wondering whether he was still conscious, and reached for where he presumed his shoulder was. But as soon as his fingertips had touched the dwarf, his eyes flew open and pinned Bilbo with their intense gaze. “Ah,” Bilbo stammered somewhat flustered, and retracted his hand slowly, “here, for you.” He held out the third glass. Mugr sluggishly looked at it, then took it with a tentative paw, and sniffed it. Bilbo had to bite his tongue. Apparently satisfied by whatever he could smell in Bilbo’s finest brandy, he downed the whole glass in one gulp. Bilbo’s eyebrows rose, and he glanced over to Rosemary, who was only watching them, looking mildly annoyed.</p><p>“Do you want some more?” he asked hesitantly. Mugr didn’t answer and had closed his eyes again.</p><p>Rosemary shrugged, emptied her glass as well, and fished a bandage out of her basket. Then she took one of the clean cloths and put it over the closed wound as well as the scratches next to it. “Hold that in place for me, will you?” she told Bilbo before addressing the dwarf. “Lift your arms up a bit, Teddybear.” Bilbo tried to stifle his laugh, while Mugr’s glare would have set a weaker hobbit on fire, but he did as he was told.</p><p> </p><p>When Rosemary finished wrapping the bandage around the dwarf’s stomach, she stood, groaning, and grabbed one of her baskets.</p><p>“Keep the other one here,” she advised Bilbo as he tried to pick it up, “there are some more bandages and a smaller bottle of alcohol inside. Maybe you’ll need them throughout the night. I’ll go back to the Gamgees, since they have already prepared a room for me, and I want to keep an eye on the little one. He did come almost a month early. I’ll come and look at the stiches tomorrow. Now it’s time for supper.”</p><p>Bilbo’s eyes grew wide, and with horror he realized that the midwife was right. He was a horrible host! “Oh no! Rosemary, I totally forgot! Oh my! Please, stay, I can have something fixed up in just a few minutes! Oh dear, I can’t believe I haven’t offered you any supper! And after all that you have done! My father would have my ears!”</p><p>“And your mother would simply laugh at you, my boy. As am I.” Rosemary interrupted him. “Don’t fret, I will have a grand supper at your neighbors’. You just concentrate on that bear in your parlor, will you?” And once they were in the hall she added quietly, “If you want me to stay, I will. Maybe we could also ask Hobson to come over. You don’t have to be alone with a stranger like him, Bilbo.”</p><p>The young hobbit’s heart warmed at that, and he glanced back towards the door to the parlor. “I think it’s fine, Aunt Rose. I don’t think he will hurt me. And I bet I’m a lot faster than him with that wound in his side. So, I don’t think we have anything to fear. But thank you for offering! And thank you so much for your help! Do you want me to escort you down the lane?”</p><p>Rosemary shook her graying curls and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I think I can find my way over to the next smial just fine, my boy. Go feed your grumpy guest.” And then she was out the door, and Bilbo was alone in his home with an injured dwarf and his many weapons.</p><p>Maybe it would have been better to not let her leave. But really, if his guest could kill several wolves, he would not struggle any more against two hobbits than against one. And as long as he didn’t try to wash him, Bilbo would be safe. Probably.</p><p> </p><p>Those were the young hobbit’s thoughts as he made his way back to the parlor, and when he glanced at the still form of his dirty visitor, he felt reassured that he had done the right thing. Even if it was a little too adventurous for his taste. But the dwarf would not have survived out in the woods, of that he was almost certain. And since he had saved him from those nasty wolves, it seemed only fair that Bilbo would save the lump from the imminent infection of his wounds. Which really would be a lot easier, if his guest could just take one tiny little bath. This was trying.</p><p> </p><p>“Excuse me,” he called softly, when he was near the dwarf again, “I’m going to make some supper. Do you have any preferences? Wishes? Things you don’t eat?”</p><p>Mugr regarded him with a confused frown. At least, he looked somewhat confused to Bilbo, it really was hard to tell without actually seeing a face. After a while, he shook his head slightly and closed his eyes again. Bilbo took it as dismissal, and began to prepare some cold meat, sausages, cheese, the rest of his bread, and when he finally pondered how many eggs he should boil, he started to reconsider. Maybe an injured patient would tolerate some broth rather that a hearty meal. Therefore, he only prepared a small plate with the cold cuts and bread, and cooked a beef bouillon while humming to himself.</p><p> </p><p>Before he sat down the tray next to the dwarf, he cleared his throat again.</p><p>Mugr’s eyes were glazed with pain when they fell on him, and he just had to sit down next to his guest and push the bowl with the soup into his limp paws.</p><p>“It’s broth.” he explained, because Mugr barely reacted, and that unnerved him a little. “Drink it. To regain your strength.”</p><p>The dwarf brought the bowl to where his mouth was probably situated and barely sniffed it, before he drank with small sips. Bilbo really wanted to feel his forehead to see whether he had a fever, but he didn’t dare to touch him, and with the dirt cover it was questionable that he would be able to feel anything anyway. So, he just nibbled on his bread in silence and glanced into the fire.</p><p> </p><p>When they had finished, the hobbit had gone back to the kitchen to clean up. Once he returned to the parlor, he was surprised to find that Mugr had moved. Not really moved much, but he no longer leaned against the armchair. Instead, he was laying on his back, still on the rug, in front of the fire place.</p><p>“You can have one of the guest rooms.” Bilbo told him as he walked towards the door. “I’ll just make up one of the beds for you real quick, and then you can retire for the night.”</p><p>“No.” came Mugr’s voice again, and Bilbo counted silently to ten before he turned.</p><p>The dwarf seemed to haggle with himself, and finally said, eyes trained onto the ceiling, “I prefer to stay here, if you allow it.”</p><p>Bilbo’s eyebrows rose at the near polite inquiry, but he nodded. “Of course, you can stay where you are, if you want. The beds are a lot more comfortable though. Well, let me at least get you a pillow and some blankets then.” And he turned once more. Poor Mugr must be hurting so badly that he didn’t want to move anymore.</p><p>“No. No bedding!”</p><p>Bilbo’s eye twitched again, and he very, very carefully released a breath. Correction, poor Mugr must be touched in the head.</p><p>“<em>Why?</em>”</p><p>Mugr looked at him now. “My bearskin is warm enough. It is my bed. I need nothing else.”</p><p>Bilbo shortly thought about arguing, but then, fearing that it might end in a similar way as the cleaning problem had, he conceded and huffed, “Fine, no bedding. Do you want anything else? I’ll bring you a pitcher of water. To drink, mind you. You do drink water, right? If you get a fever, you need to stay hydrated.”</p><p> </p><p>A few minutes later, he put down the pitcher and a big bowl next to the lump. “Alright, here you go. If you can’t move, you may use the bowl, but the bathroom is down the left hallway, first door to the right. Just in case you change your mind. Or, you know, have other business to take care of. Right. Anyway. Good night.”</p><p>And Bilbo fled.  Once he was in his bedroom, he locked the door.</p>
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<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Bilbo woke the next morning after a night of fitful sleep, he was truly glad to find himself still alive, and silently crept through his hallway towards the parlor. The fire had burned down to embers, and the dwarf was as he had left him. He could hear a faint snore. Still alive then. What a successful night.</p><p> </p><p>Once he was in the pantry, he started to wonder whether he should set the table. But eating with Mugr on the floor wasn’t that bad, especially since it meant that the lump wouldn’t trail all his grime through the rest of the smial. The floor it was, then. How entirely unrespectable. Bilbo grinned.</p><p> </p><p>Mugr opened his eyes as Bilbo entered the parlor trying to balance the many hearty treats, which he had found in his pantry, on the tray. He struggled upwards into a sitting position and rubbed his face, slightly widened eyes taking in the food in Bilbo’s hands.</p><p>“If you want to wash your face,” Bilbo murmured as he sat down the breakfast, “you can use the pitcher next to you.”</p><p>Mugr instinctively reached for it, eyes on the food, only to recoil as if he had been bitten. His head snapped up to Bilbo, face contorted with anger and eyes flashing with fury. With one paw, he reached for the pitcher to immediately throw it across the room, where it burst into shards when it connected to the wall in a loud crash. With the other he grabbed Bilbo’s upper arm, faster than the hobbit could flinch away, and pulled his frightened host nearly into his lap, bringing their faces close, and snarling like a feral beast.</p><p>“You dare?” he roared, his eyes wild and his teeth bared behind the matted beard.</p><p>Bilbo could do nothing but stare at him wide eyed. He was only kneeling on one leg and could find no leverage to get away.</p><p>Mugr shook him. “You dare try and trick me, you miserable Halfling!” he shouted, “I should snap your neck!”</p><p>Bilbo felt himself starting to tremble. He couldn’t help but let out a whimper.</p><p>Suddenly, Mugr took in a deep breath and turned his head to the side. His paw released the hobbit’s arm, and Bilbo scarpered back and away from him as fast as he could. When he reached the wall, he stayed there, still trembling and clutching his upper arm. Mugr’s grip had been brutally hard.</p><p>The dwarf ran one paw over his face again and sighed. Then he tried to stand up, and after struggling for a few moments stood tall, with one hand against the mantle, similar to how he had leaned against the birch tree just yesterday. “I have told you”, he said testily but in a much quieter voice, “I cannot be clean.” He straightened up, swaying a little on the spot, before he continued. “I leave now. You have my thanks for your hospitality.” Then he started to limp towards the (wrong) door.</p><p> </p><p>As Bilbo watched him stagger through the room, he knew he couldn’t let the dwarf leave. It would be his death. And for what? Only because Bilbo had not heeded his warning and tried to outwit him into washing himself. On shaky legs, he approached the already heavily breathing Mugr, but made sure to stay outside the range of his paws.</p><p>“Wait, please!” The dwarf slowly turned his head towards him. He looked so tired. “Stay. Please. I’m sorry. I will not try to trick you again, I promise! You are in no condition to go out into the snow.”</p><p>Mugr slowly shook his head. “I cannot trust you to keep that promise, Halfling.” Then he opened the door and frowned into the adjacent room, probably not recognizing it (and correctly so).</p><p>“You need to have your wound looked at again! And you need food, because you certainly cannot hunt like this. And what if the wolves return? Master Mugr, you will lose your life, if you leave.”</p><p>Bilbo was becoming desperate. Why did this dwarf have to be bloody hard headed? The only thing stopping him from leaving at the moment was his utter disorientation combined with the number of doors to the hobbit’s parlor.</p><p>“As will I lose my life if I clean myself, Halfling.”</p><p>Bilbo paused. “That doesn’t make any sense!”</p><p>Mugr stumbled over one edge of the carpet, and nearly went down. His paw gripped the paneling on the wall hard, and his breathing had become erratic again.</p><p>“Alright. I believe you! And I promise to never try to get you to clean yourself again!”, the hobbit exclaimed, adding “I can’t believe I’m saying this…” under his breath. “And you will promise not to, ah, snap my neck in return. Please.”</p><p>Bilbo had edged closer to the dwarf once more, and Mugr looked at him with both suspicious and weary eyes.</p><p>“Just please sit down again. Let’s have first breakfast. Goodness, you are going to aggravate your wound!”</p><p>“Why do you wish to keep me so, Halfling?” Mugr growled again. “What is it that you think to gain from me?”</p><p>At first, Bilbo just gaped. Then he snapped.</p><p>“Of all the… Oh you daft creature!” He threw his hands in the air. “You saved my life yesterday! And now I’m trying really hard to save yours, you stubborn mule, and you are making it really darn difficult for me! There is <em>nothing</em> I want from you! Except maybe that you show basic manners and not trail your dirt flakes through my smial. Which is really not that much to ask! You oaf! In case you haven’t noticed, I’m the one with a home and food and firewood, and you are the one who most probably lives somewhere out in the wild during winter. And you are also the one with all the weapons, which you are still carrying, by the way, even though you are in my home, and that is the height of rudeness! But have I said anything? No! Because I’m not. Rude, that is. Normally. But I’m reaching my limit with you, you… you dwarf! I’m trying to be a good host here, and every time I try to do something for you, you just say ‘No’! Like I’m a dog doing a trick wrong! And you have threatened me twice now! So, if you don’t sit down on the rug you bled all over yesterday and eat your food, I’m going to…” Bilbo paused, thinking. “I don’t know what I’m going to do yet, but I can promise you, you are not going to like it! And I will tell Rosemary that you were walking around, aggravating your wound. See if you’ll like that! You big lump!”</p><p>Bilbo huffed, a little out of breath, and glared at the dwarf. Mugr hadn’t moved since he had started his tirade and was just looking at him. Bilbo couldn’t quite interpret his mien. Then, he slowly limped back to his place in front of the fire, which had gone out entirely by now, and eased himself down onto the floor. Once he had leaned back against the leg of the armchair, Bilbo also slid down to sit on the other side of the tray. Some of the food had been spilled on the floor during the pitcher episode, which the hobbit tried very hard not to think about, and so he quietly started picking the pieces back up, dusting them off, and piling them on his plate. It wouldn’t do to waste food! Especially not in winter. Bilbo shuddered. Then, he glanced at the cold fireplace, and set to pile new logs into it.</p><p> </p><p>When the fire was burning brightly again, Mugr still had not taken even one bite. Bilbo put his hands on his hips and glanced down at the sitting dwarf. His breathing had evened out. “Go on, eat!” he tried to sound placably, “I’ll make us some tea.”</p>
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<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Just after second breakfast, which Mugr had eyed with evident confusion on his barely visible face, there was a knock on the door.</p><p>Rosemary and her apprentice stood outside. Marigold seemed to vibrate from excitement, and Bilbo suddenly feared for everyone’s safety. But before he could try to calm the young hobbitess in her eagerness, Rosemary pushed past him and made her way towards the parlor, Marigold quick to follow. Thus, he only sent a short prayer to the Green Lady, and hurried after them.</p><p> </p><p>Mugr did nothing but watch the midwife again, even as Marigold began to chatter enthusiastically. Bilbo noticed that she did keep herself behind her teacher and within a safe distance from the ragged dwarf on the floor, though.</p><p>“My, Master Baggins! What an adventure we’ve had! Truly dreadful, let me tell you! But I have no need to tell you, now, have I? You were there after all! And this is the kind hero, who drove away those nasty beasts, isn’t it? Missus Bolger told me all about him when I returned to the Gamgees’ smial for second breakfast!” Bilbo slightly doubted that. “I must say, though, Master Baggins, it does seem to me like he could use a bath, you know. I hope you excuse my saying so. After all, it’s your business, who you let into your smial. But, goodness, do you see those fingernails? Master Dwarf, you are in desperate need of care from a lady, if you don’t mind me saying so. We can’t have you walking around, looking like a beggar! I mean, can you imagine? No, if you are to become the hero of Hobbiton, you must look the part! You did save us from those wolves, after all!”</p><p>“For which we are <em>all very</em> <em>thankful</em>, Master Dwarf.” Rosemary interrupted her a little sharply.</p><p>“Oh yes, of course we are!” Marigold continued, nearly unperturbed. “You have my gratitude, truly, Master Dwarf! But there really needs to be done something about your hair! I mean…”</p><p>“You have not changed the bandage yet.” Rosemary interrupted again, and glanced at Bilbo.</p><p>“Oh!” Bilbo felt his cheeks heat under her gaze. “Yes, erm, I seem to have forgotten it. Sorry. It’s not… it didn’t do him any harm, did it?” In truth, the hobbit had not quite dared to put himself within Mugr’s reach again, let alone try to touch him. But the women didn’t need to know about his latest near-death experience.</p><p>Marigold resumed chattering and gossiping happily, while Rosemary prodded at the suture. Mugr seemed to have become a little green around his nose.</p><p>“Mari, how about you go to Bilbo’s kitchen and make us a light elevensies?” Rosemary suddenly asked, and Marigold immediately beamed at Bilbo.</p><p>“You wouldn’t mind, would you, Master Baggins? I will of course take care not to cause any disorder! You can trust me in a kitchen, let me tell you! What do you think of sandwiches?”</p><p>Bilbo smiled back, and pointed towards the kitchen door. “Please, do go ahead! I would be delighted to try your cooking! The first pantry is to the right.”</p><p> </p><p>When the hobbitess had disappeared, he let out a sigh and enjoyed the quiet for a few seconds, before he turned towards his guest and the midwife.</p><p>“Can you hold the new cloth in place like last time, my boy?” Rosemary asked as she readied the bandage.</p><p>So much for not coming within Mugr’s reach again. Suddenly Bilbo wished for Marigold to be back in the room. But Rosemary had started to look at him expectantly, and so Bilbo only swallowed hard and carefully knelt down next to the dwarf.</p><p> </p><p>His hand was trembling slightly where it held the cloth, but the midwife didn’t seem to notice. When he dared to glance up at Mugr’s face, he caught the dwarf’s gaze on him, and tried to fight the instinct to make himself as small as possible. Mugr only watched him intently, and Bilbo unexpectedly couldn’t look away. Like a rabbit caught by a wolf. Or bear. Again.</p><p>“Alright.” Rosemary said, and Bilbo blinked. Slowly he retracted his hand and tried to subtly bring as much distance between himself and the dwarf as inconspicuously possible.</p><p>“It looks rather good.” she continued while packing her basket. “I could not feel misplaced fluid in your stomach, so chances are high that you have no internal bleeding. But the gash was big, and it needs to heal properly. That means rest, lots of rest, Master Dwarf. No strenuous activities. And at the moment, I can imagine even walking being strenuous for you. If your stomach starts hurting or bruises form, you need to see a healer as quickly as possibly! But if everything goes all right, and you – I repeat – rest, the stitches could be removed in about two or three weeks by my estimation.” She glanced at Mugr. “Did you understand that all?”</p><p>“Aye.” Mugr answered in a low voice, much to Bilbo’s surprise. “I am grateful for your aid.”</p><p>“Just make sure it was not for naught.” Rosemary smiled slightly. “And it is I, who must thank you. You have not only saved my young apprentice, my best friend’s son, and myself, but by extent also Lila Gamgee and her baby.”</p><p>Mugr’s dirty brows furrowed a little, but he inclined his head as if in acceptance of her words.</p><p>“Oh, Master Baggins!” Marigold exclaimed just then, as she pushed the door open with one of her feet, a tray with fine looking sandwiches in her hands. “Is that your grandmother’s pitcher I saw in the trash? My, it must be in thousand pieces! What a shame! It was such a pretty thing, too! I recognized it immediately, because my Great-Aunt Mina has the same one! She told me they had bought them together, when they went to Bree after their coming-of-age celebrations. Dear me, it is so sad that the trusted thing broke! I’m sure, it was nearly antique! I always found the coloring quite fascinating, even as a faunt, let me tell you!” She set the tray on the side table.</p><p>Bilbo’s cheeks lost some color, and his hands began to tremble a little more, but he quickly stammered, “The pitcher? Oh right! You know, it was the oddest thing. I wanted to bring it to Master Mugr here, and suddenly the handle broke right off from the rest. Can you imagine, the whole pitcher in shambles and only the handle in my hands? It gave me quite a scare. Maybe it was the old age. What is it called? Material fatigue. Luckily, no one got hurt!” And he tried very hard not to glance at the dwarf. Or Rosemary, who watched him pensively but made no comment.</p><p> </p><p>After he had complemented Marigold on her truly delicious sandwiches and gone to put the tray back in the kitchen, Bilbo could hear her questioning the silent Mugr about (being) the giant bear.</p><p>“I’m not sure it fits, Miss Marigold.” he mused as he returned to the parlor. “I would have thought a giant bear to be taller than an average bear. And even though Master Mugr is quite a bit bigger than us, I would rather think him small for a bear.”</p><p>Rosemary murmured a word under her breath that Bilbo did not catch, but the dwarf’s glare was back immediately and directed at her with full intensity.</p><p>She did not seem to notice, however, and addressed her apprentice. “Let’s be on our way, Marigold. I am missing my own home, and we don’t want to be caught by the night on our way back.”</p><p>“Are you sure it would not be better to stay in Hobbiton another night?” Bilbo asked, as they went towards the coat hooks. “Or at least don’t go alone! What if the wolves come back?”</p><p>“Don’t worry, Master Baggins!” Marigold smiled. “We will keep on the paths this time, and it is still only noon.”</p><p>“We have also informed both, Bounders and Shirriffs of the wolves.” Rosemary added. “It will be alright.” Then she gave him a kiss on the cheek again, and whispered, “Go to the Gamgees, if you don’t feel safe with him! They would probably even let you stay over for the whole winter. Don’t hesitate to ask for help, my boy, I beg you.”</p><p>Bilbo gave her a kiss back. “I’ll be careful. Thank you, Aunt Rose.”</p><p>Then he waited until they were out of sight, before he closed his front door.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Oh, we’re halfway through the story now (chapter wise)! ╰(*°▽°*)╯</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Bilbo had opted not to return to the parlor, and instead confined himself to his kitchen and started to prepare luncheon. He had decided that vegetable stew would probably be good for his patient, who had only eaten one single sandwich for elevensies.</p><p>When he walked into the parlor, trying to seem confident, the hobbit noticed a little pile of golden coins where he normally sat the tray. Puzzled, he put it on the side table instead, and went to investigate. When he was in front of his armchair, Mugr opened his eyes and silently watched him.</p><p>“What’s this?” the hobbit asked.</p><p>No answer came.</p><p>“Well, I’ve brought luncheon. You will need to move your coin, so I can set down the tray.”</p><p>Mugr’s eyebrows furrowed again, and he glanced at the steaming bowls on the side table. But he made no move to put away the gold. Then he turned to look into the fire, and Bilbo could see his jaw work even through all the grime.</p><p>“For the pitcher.” he grumbled.</p><p>Now it was Bilbo’s turn to furrow his brows.</p><p>“Are you… Are you somehow apologizing for throwing my pitcher against the wall? With coin?”</p><p>Mugr gave him a glare, and if the hobbit hadn’t been so perplexed, he would have started to worry for his safety again.</p><p>“You can buy a new one. You can buy several with that! Do you want <em>more</em>?”</p><p>The dwarf’s voice had gained a dangerous undertone again, but Bilbo chose to ignore that for the moment, warring between confusion and exasperation at his guest’s behavior.</p><p>“No?” Bilbo tried. “I don’t need your coin for the pitcher. I have another one. Several in fact. My grandmother had a slight obsession with them.”</p><p>Mugr still didn’t touch the pile, and continued to glare at him. Finally, he pressed out, “Then take it for the food.”</p><p>Bilbo’s eye started twitching again.</p><p>“Are you offering to pay me? For the food you eat? While you are my guest?” His voice had risen higher with each question, and he was sure he sounded a little hysterical by now, but really, after the last two days, he was quite entitled to have a conniption.</p><p>The dwarf looked confused again, which really did nothing to appease Bilbo.</p><p>“You do not want the coin?” he asked, sounding both suspicious and incredulous.</p><p>“No? No. No and no!” Bilbo had to take a deep breath. “Oh, bother it all! No, I do not want your gold! You really look like you could need it yourself! And I’m not going to rob a bloody beggar! What do you take me for? Did you really think, I would let you pay for your stay with me, when I invited you into my smial as a <em>guest</em>? Do I seem such a bad host to you? Or are you just trying to insult me at every corner? I can’t believe you would offer me coin of all things! If you want to apologize for the bloody pitcher, just do it! And while you are at it, you could apologize for threatening me in my own home as well. And for being a blockhead. Because that’s what you are! I can’t believe this!” He had thrown his hands in the air again, and started to turn towards the food. Better eat, before he said something he’d regret.</p><p>Mugr seemed to concentrate on the pile. Then he said quietly, “I have insulted you.”</p><p>Bilbo refused the urge to spin around. “Oh, have you only just noticed that?” He took one of the bowls and the plate with bread. Marigold had brought if from the bakery in Hobbiton. Very thoughtful of her. “You have insulted me more than not, since you came through my door.” He put down the food in front of the dwarf, ignoring the annoying, golden pile that was still in the way, and turned to get his own bowl.</p><p>Then, sitting down, he prompted, “Eat while it’s still hot!” only to immediately snap, “And stop sniffing my food!” when Mugr had raised the bowl towards his big nose again. “What is it, you think I’m putting in it? If you do not like my cooking, you are welcome to only eat bread and cold meat!” Blockhead.</p><p>The dwarf stared into his stew. “If I insulted you, you have the right to retaliate.” he said in a low voice.</p><p>Bilbo scoffed. “What, by poisoning you? Don’t be daft! No hobbit would poison his guest. Ever. Or anyone else for that matter. That’s just stupid. And I’ll have you know, you are currently insulting me again.”</p><p>Mugr slowly closed his eyes. “I apologize.”</p><p>“Excuse me? What was that?” Bilbo couldn’t help but inquire tetchily, barely trusting his ears.</p><p>Mugr glared at him.</p><p>“Alright, alright. Fine. I accept your apology.” the hobbit huffed. “I will not poison you. Honestly, I’m eating the same things as you. You are paranoid. Which you might need to be in the wild, but you are save here in my smial. I promise you. Actually, <em>you</em> are the most dangerous thing for miles around.”</p><p> </p><p>They ate in silence for a while. Then the dwarf spoke. “Still, keep the coin. I am no beggar. I have no need for it.”</p><p>Bilbo gaped at him. That did not fit the image of greedy dwarves at all. Nor did it fit Mugr’s ragged image.</p><p>“If you are rich, you would not need to look like that, now would you?” he mused.</p><p>“I am rich because I look like that.” the annoying dwarf answered conversationally.</p><p>Bilbo thought about hitting him with the bowl. “That doesn’t make any sense?!”</p><p>But Mugr didn’t elaborate.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Bilbo brought afternoon tea, Mugr eyed the tray with a pained expression.</p><p>The hobbit worried for bit, but then the dwarf said hesitantly, “I can eat no more. How many meals do you have?”</p><p>Bilbo was stunned at the admission. And then stunned at his own inability as a host.</p><p>“Oh dear!” he fretted, “I forget to offer food to other hobbits and at the same time neglect the fact that other races eat less than us! I must apologize! Goodness, my mother had told me about your stomachs being as small as your feet, and it has totally slipped my mind! You needn’t eat of course, if it pains you! How many meals do you normally take? I’m sure we can arrange something! Oh my! Eating seven times a day is the respectable thing to do for us, you know.”</p><p>Mugr had started glowering by then. “Dwarrow do not have a life of leisure and plenty such as you halflings.” he growled, and added, “Three meals are enough.”</p><p>Bilbo decided not to comment that. “Alright then,” he suggested, “from now on, you can just take one of the breakfasts, luncheon and either dinner or supper, depending on your appetite. Or mood.” If he was a little miffed at the dwarf’s insinuation that his people knew nothing of hardship, he tried not to let it show, and went to enjoy his tea nonetheless.</p><p> </p><p>Around time for supper, when the wind had started howling stronger around his smial, and Bilbo was glad to be inside and warm, he resolved to first ask whether his guest was hungry, before preparing the food. But to his surprise, the parlor was empty.</p><p>Following a string of not completely closed doors and small chunks of dirt on the floor through the adjacent rooms, he found the dwarf havering in the hallway, quite far from the front door.</p><p>“What are you doing?”</p><p>Mugr jumped a little, and Bilbo felt a tiny bit smug at that.</p><p>“I wish to leave, Halfling. Where is the door?”</p><p>“Leave? Are you sure that is a good idea? With the increasing wind, I would guess that by tonight a rather nasty winter storm will be upon us. Why would you want to be outside in such weather? You can stay here, didn’t I tell you so already? You can sleep in front of the fireplace, or you can use one of the guestrooms, whichever you prefer. It is really no bother.” Bilbo was honestly confused at the dwarf’s behavior.</p><p>“I wish to leave.” Mugr repeated, and started limping down the hallway, even further away from the front door.</p><p>Bilbo hurried after him. “Why? Why go out in the cold with your injuries? Rosemary said you needed rest! And your stitches need to be removed in a few weeks. You really should stay at least until then!”</p><p>“I can remove the stitches myself.” the idiot stated in a tense voice. Then he opened the door to one of the guest bathrooms, stared a few seconds, and threw it closed with an angry growl. Snarling, he turned to the hobbit. “Have you bewitched this place?”</p><p>Bilbo shook his curls. “I have no magic whatsoever, Master Dwarf. And if I had, I would certainly not use it to make you trail dirt all throughout my poor smial.” He tilted his head, considering the irate dwarf for a bit. “Just stay for the night. Please. I can’t let you out into the storm in good conscience, even if you were uninjured. Now, follow me if you want to return to the parlor, alright?” Then he turned and slowly started to walk in the other direction. How the clod had managed to find the way straight to the sitting room on the first try yesterday was beyond him.</p><p>“Damn you.” Mugr muttered, but actually limped after him.</p><p>Therefore, the hobbit led his guest back to the parlor, though not necessarily taking the shortest way, just to be safe.</p><p> </p><p>The next day, the storm was blowing in full force, and Mugr slept through both first and second breakfast. Bilbo had no incentive to wake him at first, but when it was nearly time for elevensies, he had become rather worried for his patient, who had barely stirred, even when the hobbit had tended to the fire next to him.</p><p>“Master Mugr!” he called softly.</p><p>The dwarf seemed dead to the world.</p><p>“Master Mugr! Wake up, please!” he tried louder, and now he could see the blue eyes struggling to focus on him. They seemed glazed. The dwarf probably had a fever. Not good.</p><p>“How are you feeling?” Bilbo asked gently as he pushed a mug with tea towards him. “It is close to noon, you have been asleep for quite some time, Master Dwarf.”</p><p>Mugr struggled to a sitting position, only to immediately lean his head against the armchair again, as if it weighed too much for him to hold it up. He took the mug and, without sniffing first, started to sip it. Progress. But his breathing had become labored again, and Bilbo started to fret.</p><p>“Do you want to eat something?”</p><p>Mugr slowly shook his head. He reminded Bilbo a bit of a faunt, pouting about feeling ill and tired. When he had finished the tea, he just flopped down onto his bearskin again, and closed his eyes. By now, Bilbo was right in the middle of fretting. Then, he had an idea.</p><p> </p><p>As he sat down the big pot full of snow next to the dwarf, Mugr opened his eyes again.</p><p>“Look,” Bilbo said, a little out of breath, as he wrapped a dishcloth around the metal, “if you lay on your side, you can bring your forehead to the cool pot. I’ve put snow in there and the lid on top, so you won’t accidently touch the melting water. I’ll put some blankets on the armchair, too, so you can just take them, when you’re starting to freeze. And I’ll bring you more tea. You must drink as much as possible, you hear me?”</p><p>Mugr didn’t answer, but turned to his side and leaned his head against the pot. After a few moments, Bilbo heard him sigh.</p><p>When the hobbit returned with a pile of blankets, Mugr seemed fast asleep, curled around the cold metal, and he silently congratulated himself for his ingenuity.</p><p> </p><p>After supper and several new loads of snow, the dwarf was a little more awake and aware of his surroundings, and Bilbo had managed to coax him into eating a whole bowl of broth. Conceding that this was probably as healthy as he would get him for that day, the hobbit left his patient in front of the fire, and retired for the night.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Bilbo awoke with a start. It was the middle of the night. There must have been something that had disturbed his sleep. A noise?</p><p>Carefully, he listened into the dark, trying to breathe as quietly as possible. Were those voices he heard?</p><p>On silent feet, he slipped through his bedroom door and into the hallway. As he neared the parlor, the sounds coming from within grew louder. It actually seemed like a constant murmur, really. Yet he couldn’t understand what was being said. Could his guest have a visitor? In the middle of the night? Maybe it was another dwarf that looked like a wild animal. Bilbo hoped it would be a squirrel this time.</p><p>However, when he peeked around the doorway, he saw only his dwarf. Mugr was still laying in front of the low fire, halfway wrapped in his bearskin. The blankets had been thrown off, which was not surprising with how much the dwarf tossed and turned. He would aggravate his wound! Bilbo crept closer and watched helplessly. Mugr clearly had a nightmare, he was muttering, sometimes half shouting, and breathing hard. The hobbit called his name to no avail. The dwarf didn’t seem to hear him. Bilbo had absolutely no desire to touch the heavily armed lump, but he had to shake him awake somehow, so he scampered into his kitchen and got a broom out of the closet.</p><p> </p><p>Bilbo had barely touched the sleeping dwarf with the end of the broomstick, when Mugr snapped up, one paw wresting the broom from the hobbit’s hands, and the other bringing that dreadful knife out from somewhere against the wood. Good thing that hadn’t been Bilbo’s neck.</p><p>Mugr blinked at the broom in his hands, breathing loudly and looking thoroughly confused. When the hobbit moved towards him, his head snapped up.</p><p>Bilbo, deciding that the worst danger had probably passed, lowered himself on the dwarf’s armchair and pulled his nightgown over his knees. “You were having a nightmare.” he said quietly as he held out his hand for the broom.</p><p>Mugr released a breath that could have been a sigh, and handed it over. Then he laid himself back down on his pelt, and stared at the ceiling. “I apologize for waking you.” His voice was raw.</p><p>“Drink some of the tea, you sound horrible.” Bilbo prompted softly. “Do you want to talk about it?”</p><p>The dwarf reached over and drank a few mouths full, before he let himself fall back on the floor. He looked exhausted. After a while, he answered, much to Bilbo’s surprise. </p><p>“I dreamt of fire and death.”</p><p>The young hobbit really did not know what to answer to that. “I have nightmares, too.” he offered. “But I tend to dream of snow and death.”</p><p>The dwarf looked at him then, his eyes still glassy from the fever. And since he hadn’t dismissed him, Bilbo continued talking.</p><p>“There was a horrible winter, you know, five years ago. The harvest had not been great that year, due to early frost. It had also started snowing by the end of Winterfilth and didn’t let up until Yule. And by then, it was so cold that the Brandywine River froze, and wargs, wolves, and orcs came into the Shire, looking for food.” Bilbo shuddered.</p><p>“I remember that winter.” Mugr’s voice was as quiet as the hobbit’s. “My people nearly starved to death.”</p><p>Bilbo nodded. “Yes,” he swallowed thickly, “many hobbits did starve. We don’t eat seven meals just because we can, Master Mugr. We need more food than the other races.” Mugr took a deep breath. “You had no way of knowing.” Bilbo smiled slightly, “I did not take offense.” The dwarf managed to incline his head while laying on the floor. His eyes, watching the hobbit, seemed gentler than before. But maybe that was just the fever.</p><p>“We are quite worried about this winter, since it came pretty early and seems to become a rather harsh one as well. And now there have been wolves in the woods again! Goodness! But this year’s harvest was a good one. I hope, no, I believe that we are better prepared for the cold months…”</p><p>Bilbo had begun to stare straight ahead in his musings, and startled terribly when he felt something brush against the top of his foot. With a loud squeak he pulled his legs up onto the chair and gaped at both, the dwarf and the paw, which he had extended towards the hobbit’s ankles. Mugr looked back at him with his glazed eyes, apparently not realizing what he had done to receive such a strong reaction. “Your feet are so hairy…” he mumbled. Or maybe his mind was just generally foggy. From the fever. Probably.</p><p>Bilbo spluttered a bit. “Oh! Goodness, you frightened me. I apologize! But, well, you have to know, touching a hobbit’s foot-hair is a rather intimate gesture.”</p><p>Mugr nodded, unperturbed. “It is the same with dwarven hair and beards.” One of his incrusted brows lifted a little. “Yet, to be fair, you have touched my hair before.”</p><p>Now Bilbo had to think really hard on whether he had truly done such a thing. And when he actually remembered, he couldn’t help but call out, “You can hardly call that hair! It’s so matted! Like one big, dirty patch of felt!”</p><p>“No, it is my hair.” Mugr stated simply.</p><p>The hobbit gaped at him. “You’re delirious!” He quickly got up from the chair. “I’m making you more herbal tea, and then you are going back to sleep!”</p><p> </p><p>When Bilbo returned with fresh tea, the dwarf was already snoring softly again.</p><p> </p><p>The next morning, Mugr woke up in time for first breakfast and wolfed down everything Bilbo had prepared. When the hobbit offered second breakfast, Mugr reluctantly ate some more.</p><p>Appeased, Bilbo decided to allow him to actually sit <em>in</em> the armchair, and offered him a guestroom once more.</p><p>“I will leave soon.” Mugr answered, shaking his scraggy head, and Bilbo had to fight really hard not to roll his eyes at him.</p><p>“Why? What are you so displeased about that you don’t want to stay here?” The young hobbit slowly started to truly worry that there was something wrong with his smial.</p><p>But Mugr shook his head again. “I am grateful for your hospitality, Master Baggins.” Bilbo had to smile at the use of his name. Took him long enough. “But I am aware that I am not good company. It is better that I am by myself.”</p><p>The hobbit pondered on that a bit. “Where will you go? Do you have a home to return to?”</p><p>The dwarf narrowed his eyes at him for a while, but then he said, “I have no home.” And Bilbo’s heart broke a little for him. “But I have no need for housing such as yours, I can live under open sky just fine, and have been doing so for many a year.”</p><p>Now it was Bilbo’s turn to shake his head. “Absolutely not.” he declared, “If you have no home, no family to return to, you might as well just stay here. I will not accept such reasons for leaving in the middle of winter! Whether you are good company or not, is still for me to decide, don’t you think? And, I admit, I have had better company, but Bag End is large, and in case we really can’t stand each other, we can spend the whole winter in different parts of it, and barely ever meet. Trust me on that.”</p><p>Mugr looked at him again for a long time, and Bilbo could feel himself deflate. “I do have a family,” he murmured very quietly, “but they have tried to clean me, forcibly even. I cannot stay, Master Baggins.” <em>I cannot trust you</em> went unsaid.</p><p>“I see.” Bilbo felt rather dejected. “But, won’t you stay until your stitches can be removed? I truly worry for your wound. And if you sleep in one of the guestrooms, you can lock the door, and you could be sure that I don’t try to douse you with water or do anything else while you are asleep.” He knew, he was a little too old for that, but he tried to make his eyes seem as big and pleading as possible.</p><p>To his surprise, it was super effective. Mugr cleared his throat awkwardly and grumbled, “Fine. I stay until my wound is healed.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Apparently, the Fell Winter was in 2911/12 (<a>https://lotr.fandom.com/wiki/Fell_Winter</a>), which would make Bilbo 21 at that time. But (for artistic reasons) I have decided for the Fell Winter to have happened almost a decade later in this AU, which therefore should make Bilbo 34 at the beginning of this tale (and Thorin 178).  (^∇^*)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After his stitches had been removed, the winter solstice festivities were coming up, and Bilbo used his new secret weapon as well as the prospect of some of the finest meals he could think of, to try and make Mugr stay longer. And the dwarf relented.</p><p>Bilbo had started to grow weirdly fond of the odd fellow by then. Mugr had taken to sleeping in one of his guestrooms, even though he still encamped on the floor in front of the fireplace. The dwarf avoided beds like the plague, just as he did water or other cleaning supplies. He would still carry his axes in his belt, but had started to leave the sword in his room. The hobbit was rather proud of that development.</p><p>With the meals, they had automatically come to an understanding of sorts. The dwarf would tell Bilbo, when he wished to partake in another one except for first breakfast, luncheon and supper, thus the hobbit knew when to cook more.</p><p>Most surprising for Bilbo, however, was the dwarf’s skill as a conversationalist. In the beginning, the young hobbit had simply sat down in his armchair and started to read aloud, while a taciturn Mugr sat next to him and smoked his pipe. He quite enjoyed Old Toby, despite his initial skepticism. That seemed to be a pattern for the lump. Then, one evening, after the dwarf had scoffed at an elvish saga for the third time, Bilbo prompted him to give a story instead, since he had such an issue with the hobbit’s choice. To his astonishment, Mugr had told a dwarven tale filled with treasures, great battles, tragic lovers, and magical beings. He not only chose his phrasing well and spoke fluently, but his voice was deep and rich and so beautiful that Bilbo had clung onto his every word. The next day, the hobbit had shown him into his study, where he kept most of his many books, and since then, they would alternate in narrating or reading to each other. Nonetheless, some days they would just talk, discussing history, gardening, mining, food, and many other things. To Bilbo, there seemed to be endless topics to explore. Though Mugr’s aversion against all things elvish was rather extreme. A lot like his apparent dislike for water and beds. Maybe they were related.</p><p>Thus, against his initial belief, Bilbo truly enjoyed the company after nearly five years of being all alone in his big smial, and although you could smell the dwarf from two rooms over, the young hobbit found he did not mind the dirt and grime as much as he had in the beginning. Apparently, it was possible to get used to just about anything. Only the kitchen, he would not allow Mugr to enter. But the dwarf seemed contend to sometimes just stand in the doorway and watch as Bilbo clattered with his pans and hummed while cutting vegetables or stirring stew.</p><p>However, one hobbit’s acceptance of his strange guest, did not necessarily extent to the rest of his town, and Bilbo started to both, look forward to and dread the upcoming midwinter celebrations.</p><p> </p><p>So far, Mugr had not left his smial, and only Rosemary, Marigold, and the Gamgees had seen him, when they came over with a bottle of wine to thank Bilbo and the dwarf for their help in escorting the midwife safely. The young hobbit had been unbelievably embarrassed about forgetting his promise to come over for supper, when he saw the whole family standing in front of his door, and ushered them inside without thinking. Only when Lila let out a gasp, and Hobson cursed quietly under his breath as Mugr rose from his armchair, did he realize his mistake. But before he could intervene, little May, hiding behind her older siblings, asked with big, shining eyes, “Are you a bear, Mister?”</p><p>And Bilbo stood transfixed, as Mugr went down on his knee and answered in a voice gentler than the hobbit had ever heard him use before, “I am no bear, little Miss. I am a dwarf.”</p><p>Everyone seemed to hold their breath as the faunt regarded him for a while, then nodded to herself, and stepped out from behind her brothers. “Very nice to meet you, Mister Dwarf. I’m May. And that’s my little brother, Halfred. We only have him for a few days now, you know.”</p><p>Mugr’s eyes went up to the bundle in Lila’s arms and widened. “He is so small.” His voice was reverent.</p><p>“He’s gonna be as tall as me some day!” Hamfast, the second son, exclaimed.</p><p>The dwarf chuckled. “I have no doubt that he will grow as tall and strong as you are, Young One.” Then his eyes found Lila again. “Your children are beautiful, my lady. They are a blessing.”</p><p>Bilbo watched astonished as Lila’s cheeks turned quite a nice shade of red, and the ice was broken. The lump actually knew how to be courteous! Was that a midwinter miracle?</p><p> </p><p>But even if the Gamgees somehow approved of the dirty dwarf, Bilbo knew that many, if not most, of the other hobbits would dislike and reject him quite strongly.</p><p>Every time he had gone to the market down in Hobbiton, he had been pestered and asked questions about both, his rumored guest and his own sanity to house a stranger like that. Sometimes, he could see nosey hobbits trying to (not so) subtly peer through the windows by his door, but no one had dared to knock yet. It probably helped that the cold winter weather discouraged many from taking longer walks than absolutely necessary.</p><p>Bilbo wondered whether it was a good idea to participate in the solstice celebrations, but he also wanted Mugr to experience them, for they were the most enjoyable days of the winter in the hobbit’s opinion. And the solitary dwarf seemed to be in great need of joy.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I was working on chapter 17 again, and decided to divide it into two parts, so now we have 20 chapters in total (●'◡'●)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In the end, he decided to bring his guest.</p>
<p>They stayed on the edge of the town square and watched the frolicking hobbits from afar. From where they stood, they still were able to hear the singing and watch the lights. Bilbo even went to the vendors and booths, which were selling mulled wine, gingerbread and cinnamon stars, hog roast and grilled ox, bringing back his spoils to the waiting dwarf. The other hobbits were giving them a wide berth, most of them pointing and whispering when they caught sight of them, but Mugr didn’t seem to notice or care. He kept watching the fires and lights with a slightly wistful expression, and Bilbo simply urged him to drink some more warm mulled wine.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Everything had gone so well, when Gastolph Grubb came a little closer than the others, followed by his usual entourage of Erling and Willow Sackville. He swayed on his feet and raised one hand to point at Bilbo and his guest. Even in the torches’ dim light, it was clear that his face was reddened. Drunkard.</p>
<p>“You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Bilbo Baggins! Not only associating with such a ragtag, but even bringing him to the celebrations! There are children here! Would you look at that! It looks like a wild beast! I can smell it from over here! What will you do, when it starts to attack the women and faunts?” he proclaimed with a loud voice.</p>
<p>The surrounding hobbits had started to not so inconspicuously gawk at them, much to Bilbo’s chagrin. Some started to murmur, and others nodded in agreement with the drunk’s words. “Maybe it’s a dancing bear?” someone said, and several started sniggering.</p>
<p>“<em>He</em> is not a wild beast, Mister Grubb. He is a dwarf, and…” Bilbo tried, but was quickly interrupted.</p>
<p>“Ha! A dwarf! How can you be sure he is one? He looks like a bear! He is probably the one, who stole Farmer Maggot’s dried meat! He is a common thief at the least! If not worse! Everyone knows that dwarfs are greedy and grabby! He might be a cutthroat! And you just let him into Hobbiton?”</p>
<p>“I do not steal!” Mugr thundered, enraged. Gastolph took a step back, but at the same time the murmurs got louder and their audience grew.</p>
<p>“He’s dangerous!” Willow’s shrill voice could probably be heard all over the town square. Great. “And he is so dirty and hideous! If only he was simply ugly, but no! How can you stand to look at him? You must be addled, Master Baggins!”</p>
<p>“Now, hold it right there!” Bilbo about had enough. “If you could stop insulting my guest for one moment and listen, you would know that he is a brave and kind dwarf, and not the monster you take him for! Have you not heard that he saved Rosemary Bolger, Marigold Bracegirdle, and me from the wolves? Yes, he looks peculiar, but that is no reason to treat him with so much distain, especially when you should celebrate him as a hero instead! And whether I let him stay in my home, after all he has done for me, is really none of your business! Because it’s <em>my</em> smial, and I can do what I want with it, no matter what you lot think!”</p>
<p>“You getting Bag End was a mistake in any case!” Erling sneered, and Willow nodded enthusiastically. “This only proves that you do nothing but sully your father’s good name! You are a disgrace, in my opinion.”</p>
<p>“Yes!” Gastolph hurried to add, “You are shaming every respectable hobbit with your imprudent actions!”</p>
<p>Bilbo felt Mugr stiffen next to him, and hurried to interject, “You are entitled to your opinion. But I would thank you, to keep it to yourself! I see absolutely nothing shameful in taking in somebody in the middle of winter, especially when he saved my life and got hurt in doing so. And I’ll have you know, he is better company than just about all of you! It is you, who should be ashamed of yourselves, judgmental as you are!”</p>
<p>“How dare you talk to your elders like that! A fine example you are!” Gastolph exclaimed, and many of the hobbits nodded and whispered in agreement with him. Not good. Why were they all so against him? Neither the dwarf, nor he had hurt anybody. Since his parents’ death, it seemed, he could do nothing without being criticized in his father’s name. His eyes began to prickle, and he scrunched up his nose.</p>
<p>“You will see where your irresponsible actions lead you, mark my words! There is too much Took in you to be respectable! Everyone knows that. Just take your beast home and wait, you are going to end up maimed, like your fool of a mother!”</p>
<p>The crowd gasped at that, and one of the other hobbits cautioned tentatively, “You are going too far, Gastolph.”</p>
<p>Bilbo knew, he could not suppress his tears much longer, and just grabbed Mugr’s arm to pull him away, back to Bag End.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Once they were through the door and he could feel his wet cheeks, he simply stood in the hallway, sniffling, and trying not to cry his eyes out. It was so unfair! They had had such a nice time watching the lights and not bothered anyone.</p>
<p>“Master Baggins…” Mugr’s voice came from behind him.</p>
<p>“Oh, excuse me. I’m sorry about that. Just... I just need a moment, please.”</p>
<p>“You needn’t apologize, Master Baggins.” the dwarf said mildly, and steered him towards his armchair in the parlor. Then, he sat down across from him, and just watched Bilbo snivel into his handkerchief and trying to compose himself.</p>
<p>“I am so sorry about that. I admit, dear me, I knew they wouldn’t truly approve of you, but I didn’t think it would get this nasty. I just really wanted to show you the midwinter party. And we didn’t bother anyone! Gastolph is a cruel drunk, I must apologize for his words!”</p>
<p>“No, Master Baggins,” Mugr interrupted him, “there is <em>nothing</em> you need ask my forgiveness for. It is I, who needs to ask for yours. My mere presence tarnishes your honor. I will leave in the morrow, if you allow me to stay but one more night.”</p>
<p>“No!” Bilbo exclaimed, dismayed, “No, please don’t leave! I mean, well, I understand if you want nothing more to do with us hobbits after that, but, well, I like you. I like your company. And I don’t want to be alone in this huge smial. So, I mean, I won’t stop you from leaving, but I really rather would prefer it, if you stayed…” He trailed off, not daring to look at his guest, and hunching down into his chair.</p>
<p>Mugr was quiet for a long time. Then he said, “May I ask, why is it, you live alone in your home and the others begrudge you so?”</p>
<p>Bilbo snuffled again. “Oh, well. It is a bit of a long story, if you don’t mind?” He looked up at the dwarf, who only inclined his head. And the hobbit was suddenly glad that he had someone to listen to him, someone who had not known his tale before from rumors and gossips, someone who actually seemed to care. And so, he told the dwarf about his well-off father from one of the most respectable families of the Shire, who had fallen in love with his wild and beautiful mother, a Took through and through, despite their differences. How he had built Bag End for her, one of the biggest and most luxurious smials in the Shire. That he was their only child, which was unusual for hobbits, but they had loved him all the more for it. Then he told him about the Fell Winter. How the food had become scarce and his father had fallen ill. How his brave mother had gone out into the snow storm to get a healer when his fever had spiked, and how, in one night, Bilbo had lost them both. His mother had encountered wolves, and his father, maybe somehow sensing his love’s demise, had stopped breathing, leaving an underaged Bilbo all alone.</p>
<p>Bilbo’s tears had started to fall once more, but he was no longer embarrassed about them, for his listener did not seem to judge him.</p>
<p>Mugr began to slowly get up from his armchair, and the hobbit watched his cautious approach with some bewilderment. Then, he knelt down in front of Bilbo’s chair and leaned in, bringing his forehead softly against Bilbo’s. The hobbit was a little baffled at the gesture. The dwarf really did reek quite a bit, and having the dirty brow pressed against his own was kind of uncomfortable and mildly disgusting. But Mugr had closed his eyes and held still, and Bilbo knew that he was sharing his pain, mourning his parents with him, and maybe someone he had lost himself. He knew that the dwarf understood, and he was glad for it, and leaned back against him, embracing the foreign but strangely comforting custom.</p>
<p>After a while, Mugr straightened up again, and returned to his seat.</p>
<p>Bilbo continued. “Well, and since I was only thirty at that time, three years from my majority, many thought, and evidently still think, I should not have inherited Bag End along with everything in it, also including quite a bit of land. But my grandfather, the Thain at the time, would hear not one word against my right to my parents’ fortune, and so I have lived here all on my own since then.” Bilbo shrugged, and then startled a bit at Mugr’s stricken look. “What… what is it? Did I say something?”</p>
<p>“You were thirty?” Mugr seemed to panic a little. “Then now you are what? Thirty-four? Thirty-five? You are but a child!”</p>
<p>“I have been thirty-four since Halimath, Master Dwarf. And I am <em>not</em> a child, thank you very much! I have not been for quite some time now.” Bilbo replied testily. Then he thought about the strong reaction. “If I may ask, how old are you, Master Mugr?”</p>
<p>The dwarf let out a shaky laugh. “I fear, I am over 140 years your elder, Hobbit.” He shook his head, disbelieving.</p>
<p>Bilbo was shocked. But then he had to smile widely. “Need I call you Grandpa Mugr now?” And Mugr laughed with him.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Nooo ooone drinks like Gastolph,<br/>Spreads rumors and other things like Gastolph!  ♪(^∇^*)<br/>…This is not what I had I mind when I thought up that name. Sorry. But it is strangely suitable.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Chapter 15</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Following the solstice, another winter storm raged on for days, and persuading Mugr to stay a little longer was not as difficult this time.</p><p>Over the next few weeks, they developed a rather comfortable rhythm. Sometimes Mugr would go into the woods and bring back rabbits from his snares. At first, Bilbo had fretted, wondering whether the dwarf would return, both, because of his initial insistence to leave and his apparently non-existent sense of direction. But he needn’t have worried. However, each time he went outside, the faunts, and sometimes even the adult hobbits, would run away screaming, or at least rush to hide themselves, which miffed Bilbo to no end. It was ridiculous, really. But Mugr appeared to be above such reactions, seemed to barely even notice them. Soon, Bilbo didn’t have to persuade the dwarf to stay every few days anymore, for he seemed content to spent the winter in Bag End, and the young hobbit was quite happy with their arrangement.</p><p> </p><p>Yet, once spring came, Bilbo could hold him no longer.</p><p> </p><p>“Will you tell me, where will you go?” Bilbo asked when they were standing in the hallway, about to say goodbye.</p><p>Mugr glanced down at him, his eyes no longer dangerous, but gentle, as they had been since the solstice. “I hope to see how my people have fared in this winter.”</p><p>“Oh, will you see your family?” The hobbit perked up. “They have surely been worried sick about you! You should have sent word to them! Will you try to stay with them once more? They must miss you terribly.” Bilbo certainly would.</p><p>The dwarf shook his head. “I cannot. I still have to wander for several more years, before I can hope to return to them.”</p><p>Bilbo still didn’t know the reason for his guest’s peculiar behavior, but by now he knew better than to ask. Mugr would never explain. He bowed his head. “You know, you can come back here any time, right? You’re always welcome, and the Shire is beautiful in summer! Or come for the fall festivals! They are the biggest parties of the year! You would enjoy them!” He tried his pleading eyes again.</p><p>But this time, Mugr did not relent. “I doubt, it is wise to return to you, Little One. If only because I sully your reputation. I wish nothing less, than to bring harm to you or your honor in any way.”</p><p>“Oh, bugger my honor!” the hobbit exclaimed, and Mugr looked really alarmed at that. “What use is my reputation, when it keeps me <em>from</em> the company of my friends, and <em>in</em> the company of a bunch of judgmental poltroons? I am telling you to come by at any time, because I will miss you, you big lump. And if you don’t want to see me again, just say so, and don’t bring up excuses about my non-existent respectability.” He sniveled a little, and scrunched up his nose as he glared at the dwarf, who’s eyebrows had risen towards his matted hairline.</p><p>“I did not mean to imply that I wish to never see you again, Master Baggins. Rather, I am honored you count me as your friend. I am truly grateful to you, for allowing me into you home. For me, you are what my people call <em>bâhel</em>, friend of all friends. And as such I would like to give you one of my beads. To… remember me by. If you wish it.”</p><p>Mugr held out a silver bead in his paw. He must have cut it from his hair, for there would have been no other way to remove it. Bilbo spied its sister-bead still in the felt around the dwarf’s shoulder. He took the offered piece of jewelry from Mugr and regarded it carefully. It had an unbelievably intricate angular design.</p><p>“It’s beautiful, Master Mugr! Thank you, I will treasure it! But… are you sure? You needn’t give me anything! I wouldn’t want you to give a family heirloom away out of some sort of obligation!”</p><p>The dwarf shook his head again. “Unfortunately, it is no great treasure. I have crafted it myself, after I had to sell my former beads to feed my sister-sons. Keep it, if it pleases you.”</p><p>Bilbo just looked at the bead in awe. “You made this yourself? It looks like a right treasure to me!”</p><p>Mugr chuckled. “Aye, Master Baggins. But you are too generous in your praise. However, with this bead, I promise you to return as long as I have not lost my life during my wanderings. Are you agreeable to that?”</p><p>“Of course, I’m agreeable! Don’t be daft! Don’t you dare die! Or get lost. That seems to be the bigger challenge.” Bilbo saw Mugr starting to pout, and quickly tried to hide his laughter by adding, “I have prepared some food for the road. I hope it is to your liking.” He reached for a large fabric bag filled with bread, cheese, sausages, dried meats, meat pies, scones, apples, and marble cake to shove at the lump.</p><p>The dwarf inclined his head, and his eyes crinkled in what was probably a small smile. “I doubt there is anything you cook that is not to my liking, Master Baggins. I thank you.” He turned to the door. “Farewell, <em>bâhel</em>.”</p><p>“Farewell, my friend.” Bilbo rubbed his eyes a little. “Just... just be safe, alright? Take care of yourself! Please!”</p><p>“You as well, Master Baggins. Take care.” Mugr looked like he wanted to say something else for a second, but then he turned and stepped out the door.</p><p> </p><p>Bilbo waved goodbye until he could no longer see him, and then went back into his empty smial.</p><p>“Well,” he mumbled to himself, shuffling his feet a little, “best get to work, or you’ll get maudlin.”</p><p>First, he went to his mother’s jewelry box, took out a ribbon onto which he threaded the bead (after washing it thoroughly, just to be safe), and put it on as a necklace. Then he cleaned up his kitchen, followed by the hallway, the guest bathroom, and finally the parlor. He brought Mugr’s armchair to the backyard, beat it hard, and then lathered it as well, for good measure. His grandmother’s bloody rug had been disposed of weeks ago already.</p><p>Lastly, only Mugr’s bedroom was left. He had not entered since the dwarf had moved into it, and silently the hobbit wondered, whether he would have to cleanse it with fire. But to his surprise, there was barely anything to do, other than letting in fresh air and getting rid of the usual dirt flakes all over the floor. Actually, it made sense. Since the dwarf had barely had any possessions, he would not have needed to use the room’s closet or cloth-chest at all. Still, Bilbo went to wipe both, only to freeze once he had opened the lid of the chest.</p><p>What in the name of the Green Lady?!</p><p>He closed the lid, blinked twice, and carefully opened it again. The chest was filled to the brim with golden coins. Just like the ones the annoying clot had offered Bilbo on the second day.</p><p>What the heck?</p><p>How had he even managed that? He would have had to carry several bags full of the stuff into this room, covertly. And what was Bilbo to do with it now? Had he left it as a (not so) secret stash? Or had he intended to gift it to the hobbit, daft thing that he was. The lump. And by now the blockhead was too far away to throw a pan against his ragged head. Great.</p><p>Bilbo closed the chest, left the room, and decided to forget he ever saw anything.</p><p>Freaking dwarves!</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Chapter 16</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Life without Mugr turned out to be rather boring.</p>
<p>All in all, Bilbo couldn’t complain. Spring was beautiful, and turned into a wonderfully warm summer, and later into a golden fall. He enjoyed long walks and late evenings, smoking on his bench, and working in his garden. The Gamgees invited him over a lot, and he visited his Took relatives, as well as Rosemary and Marigold on one occasion. Life was like it had always been. Most hobbits seemed to have forgiven or forgotten that he had a wild bear living in his smial during the winter and were quite cordial. Only Gastoph and his followers still gave snide remarks at every occasion, and some older hobbits would shake their heads at him disapprovingly and start to whisper, whenever he went by. But it was pretty easy to evade all of them. Thus, Bilbo did not worry much.</p>
<p>Only at night, when he sat alone in his parlor and missed the many conversations, he had had with his winter guest, he would feel a little lonely and send a prayer to the Green Lady to keep the dwarf save.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Fall turned into winter, which at first promised to be a mild one. But the closer the midwinter celebrations came, the colder the air seemed to get.</p>
<p>One evening, about two weeks away from the solstice, there was a heavy knock on the hobbit’s door. A little bewildered, Bilbo got up from his supper and went to see, who would call on him this late. Once he opened his green door, however, any words he might have had for this gatecrasher got stuck in his throat, and his eyes widened in surprise as they took his visitor in.</p>
<p>Mugr had managed to get even dirtier than he had been last year.</p>
<p>After a long while, the dwarf said somewhat sheepishly, “Master Baggins, may I enter?”</p>
<p>Bilbo, who had just gaped at the apparition, shook himself. “Of course! Of course! Please, do come in!” And when Mugr stood in his hallway, looking a little out of place, he hurried to add, “Well, you know where everything is, don’t you? You can take the same room as last year, if you want. I’ll just fix up some more supper for you! Shall we eat in the parlor again? Goodness, what a surprise! It is so nice to see you again! You are not hurt this time, are you?”</p>
<p>As Bilbo rambled on, Mugr’s stance and hardly visible face seemed to relax. Had the lump thought, he would be thrown out again? Unbelievable!</p>
<p>“I am pleased to see you in good health, Master Baggins. I can assure you, I am unharmed. It is only… the weather has turned cold, and I have found myself missing your warm meals and comfortable home. I am aware, I have told you I would not come to you again, while I can hurt your reputation, but…”</p>
<p>“Oh, nonsense!” Bilbo interrupted, “Have I not told you to come by at any time? How could you even wait this long out in the cold? Stubborn Dwarf! You are welcome in my smial, truly welcome. And I hope, you will stay the winter at least. Now, go put that dreadful sword in your room. I will get a fire started in it later. First I need to get some food into you!”</p>
<p>Mugr’s eyes seemed to smile at the hobbit. “If you allow it, I would gladly stay the winter, Master Baggins. I thank you. I will put my things in my old room and care for the fire myself.” And on he went, even going in the right direction.</p>
<p>Bilbo, meanwhile, happily went to his kitchen and started cooking anew.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When Mugr appeared in the kitchen doorway a few minutes later, he had a frown on his face. “You have not touched the coin?” he asked.</p>
<p>Bilbo was a little perplexed. Then he remembered. He had actually managed to completely forget the dratted treasure chest. When he narrowed his eyes at the dwarf, the lump had the good grace to look rather alarmed.</p>
<p>“Yes, about that, Master Dwarf,” he hissed, “care to explain <em>why</em> there is a chest full of gold in my smial? And how you even managed to get all that stuff inside without me noticing? I’d rather you stashed your savings somewhere else, to be honest.”</p>
<p>Mugr looked to the side. “I left it for you. As a present.” Then he turned his gaze back to the hobbit, somehow seeming quite vulnerable. “Do you reject it?”</p>
<p>“Well, of course! I have no need for…” Bilbo paused. “Wait. Tell me, would it be a grave insult for me to reject your present?”</p>
<p>The dwarf shifted uncomfortably. “It would be.”</p>
<p>“Oh.” The hobbit tapped his foot, thinking. “Even if it is a useless gift for me?”</p>
<p>“You think gold to be useless?” Mugr looked absolutely bewildered.</p>
<p>“I already have more than I need, Master Mugr.” Bilbo tried to explain, “I am rather rich by hobbit standards. I have no need for more coin. Especially not so much. I would have nowhere to spend it. If you wish to give me a present, I would much prefer some good food and drink, a song, a story, or just your company. But I do not wish to insult you. Truly, I don’t. Therefore, I accept your gift, Master Dwarf. But, I wonder, since the gold is mine now, can I do with it whatever I wish? Could I gift it back to you? Or maybe make it so that we share it? We could use some of it for buying food while you are here, if you wish. And you could just take some, whenever you need it. You should bring some to your nephews!”</p>
<p>Mugr slowly shook his head. His eyes showed disbelieve and something else that Bilbo could not interpret. “What a curious creature you are, Little One. To think gold useless! But I will do as you say, we shall share the coin in the chest. And I will think of a gift you needn’t accept out of politeness next time.”</p>
<p>Bilbo could feel his cheeks heat. “You don’t need to give me <em>any</em> gifts! Here, take your plate and go sit in the parlor, you big lump.”</p>
<p>The dwarf inclined his head and turned towards the sitting room. “But maybe I want to, my Little One.” he said quietly, and Bilbo, with his sensitive hobbit ears, cursed the stubbornness of dwarves.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Chapter 17</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The rest of Hobbiton really was not happy with Bilbo and his guest. Again. By now, not only Gastolph’s group would flout, but several hobbits around Bilbo’s age had started to taunt or straight out avoid him for the dwarf. Many of the older ones had resumed to disapprovingly shake their heads, and whisper loudly whenever he was near. The number of invitations for tea plummeted significantly. But Bilbo chose not to care. While he didn’t want to provoke any confrontations, he also decided not to deliberately hide, for in his opinion there was nothing wrong or shameful in letting a friend stay the winter. Even if said friend did look and smell rather dreadfully. But everyone had to have some fault. Thus, Mugr trailed after him to the market once a week, and they would take nice walks in the snow when the weather was right. Sometimes they were invited by the Gamgees for the afternoon, much to their faunts’ delight, and the dwarf actually relished in splitting firewood for Hobson, who had sprained his wrist when he fell on a patch of black ice right after the solstice.</p><p>The few times, someone would actually dare to say something untoward in the dwarf’s presence, Bilbo just pretended not to hear, unless they were straight out insulting. Then he would gladly give them a dressing down, and as soon as Mugr growled at them, they would scamper. It was quite funny to watch, in fact.</p><p> </p><p>“You are such a gentle and forgiving soul.” Mugr said after one encounter with the Sackville siblings. “In your stead, I would have challenged them to a duel long before now. If you allow it, I will do so and fight for you. Their insults should be paid for with blood.”</p><p>“Oh, goodness, no!” Bilbo had to exclaim, “Please don’t go around challenging people to duels! We really don’t do that here. Oh my! No, just ignore them! They’ll tire of it eventually. Soon there’ll be another “scandal” to fuss about. I apologize for their behavior, though! I am afraid you only get to experience the unpleasant side of the Shire. A shame, really. It’s actually quite nice here.”</p><p>Mugr shook his head. “I must tell you again, you have done nothing to apologize for, Master Baggins. I am quite content with my stay in your Shire.” Then he looked away. “And I will not duel for you, should you not wish it.”</p><p>Bilbo patted his arm, a little relieved. “Thank you, my friend.”</p><p> </p><p>However, winter was bound to end, as all things do, and Mugr left once more as spring came. Yet this time, the hobbit was quite sure his guest would return within the year, and he found himself waiting for the cold months to come with unexpected and joyful anticipation.</p><p>His patience was rewarded when there was a heavy know on his door again in late fall. And so, the young hobbit spent another winter with the increasingly dirty dwarf, wondering how it was possible to accumulate even more grime and filth each year, but thoroughly enjoying the company and stimulating conversation until the next spring.</p><p> </p><p>By then, Gastolph and some others had taken to leer at him all year round. Their taunts had become tasteless, probably due to Bilbo’s insusceptibility to their earlier jokes and derision.</p><p>“I wonder how they are spending those lonely, cold winter nights, all alone in one smial.” they would loudly whisper to the other hobbits, when Bilbo was within earshot. “I can see how the bear would eat him up, as they seem to like the sweet, honey-colored things.”</p><p>Willow would generally argue that no one halfway sane would touch such a filthy beast, yet Mad Baggins seemed to enjoy himself just fine with his “guest”.</p><p>Some of the older hobbits had taken to give him pitying looks, but not for the treatment he received from his peers, as Bilbo was shocked to find, when old Clementine Proudfoot took him aside one day at the market and whispered, “I hear that dwarf is making you do terrible things for him, Young Master Baggins? Goodness, you unfortunate soul! If you can no longer stand to obey his will, you need to go to the Thain! I am sure he can protect you from such a lecherous beast!” She nodded in a very conspiratorial way, patted Bilbo’s hand, and left the poor hobbit standing in the middle of the market, absolutely flabbergasted.</p><p>One day, Gastolph loudly proclaimed that he was looking forward to the wedding, for it is said that bears dance well, and earned boisterous laughter.</p><p>Bilbo just stood there, his cheeks red, and shook his head. To treat him so cruelly only because of his innocent friendship with the odd-looking dwarf! He had half a mind to just fling something at the jeerer’s head, but he kept silent and hoped they would eventually tire of their mockery. He could endure, as long as he had the dwarf’s excellent company for a few months each year. Yet, he had to admit, Mugr’s suggestion of dueling had gained quite a bit of appeal over time.</p><p> </p><p>When Mugr came the fourth winter, the taunts had fortunately lessened since the summer, but the both of them were watched with even more suspicion than before.</p><p>After one afternoon of playing with the Gamgees’ faunts in the snow, the dwarf had returned to Bag End with a grave mood, and since then growled at any approaching hobbits before they could even say anything remotely improper. Bilbo suspected he had heard of the rumors, and it hurt his heart to cause his dear guest such discomfort. But he kept quiet still, not wanting to start anew the discussion of duels, tarnished honor, and leaving in the middle of winter.</p><p> </p><p>The coldest season passed once more, and this time at their parting in spring, Mugr carefully lifted one of the hobbit’s hands to where his lips were probably at. He smiled at the perplexed Bilbo, and said impishly, “You might want to wash that hand now.”</p><p>“Oh, you!” Bilbo blushed, suddenly flustered. He smacked him lightly on the chest, shaking his curls. Mugr simply watched him with a fond look in his eyes as he scrunched up his nose and cleared his throat. After just staring at each other for a few more seconds, the hobbit sobered. With a tentative voice, he couldn’t help but ask, “Will you come back?”</p><p>The dwarf kept looking at him for a long while, and then inclined his head, leaning a little closer. “I promise to return to you, Little One.” And Bilbo beamed at him for that.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>However, the next winter Mugr did not come.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Chapter 18</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Alright… this is about as mean as I can be ~(&gt;_&lt;。)~<br/>This chapter was not as easy for me to write as the others… I hope it came out okay.<br/>(SOMEONE wanted misery and torture and such… Will this suffice?)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Bilbo had thought nothing to it at first, since the oaf had only appeared close to the midwinter celebrations more often than not. But when the solstice festivities were but a few days away, he started to worry.</p><p> </p><p>This time, the other hobbits stared at him weirdly, because he had <em>no</em> smelly, hairy shadow follow him to the town square. For Bilbo, that was even more unsettling than before, especially since he had to return to an empty smial, and he found that he could not quite enjoy the lights and the food this year.</p><p> </p><p>Even more days passed, turning into weeks, yet still there had been no heavy knock on the young hobbit’s door. The winter storms raged outside his comfortable home, and Bilbo grew more anxious with each day.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>One morning, when he was getting his mail, he noticed the first patch of snowdrops in his front garden, and he knew then that Mugr would come no more.</p><p> </p><p>Slowly, Bilbo knelt down on the snow to regard the frail flowers, his letters forgotten.</p><p>They were welcome as heralds of spring all over the Shire, but this year, they brought nothing but despair to the young hobbit, for there was only one message they could give him:</p><p>His dwarf was dead.</p><p>He had promised! Promised to return as long as he had not lost his life during his wanderings, and now he had failed to come to Bilbo for the whole winter.</p><p> </p><p>A sob tore through the hobbit’s throat, as the wet cold of the snow started to seep through his clothes, but he paid it no mind.</p><p>With shaking hands, he reached out and tried to cover the flowers with snow again, knowing full well that this would not change a thing. Once more, he had been left all alone. He would never see the dwarf again.</p><p> </p><p>Oh, why couldn’t the lump have stayed with him, here in his warm and homely smial, in the safety of the Shire? Why did the stubborn clot have to go out into that horrible, dangerous world? Why did he leave him? Why did everyone leave him?</p><p>His vision had begun to blur as big, fat tears made their way down his freezing cheeks, yet he couldn’t stop them from falling. Something had drained him of all his strength, of the urge to do anything. Truly, he <em>couldn’t</em> do anything. Everything would end in failure, criticism or infinite regret, as it always had. He could never help those he cared for, couldn’t save anyone! He was stuck forever in his oh so comfortable home, bursting with memories and unfulfilled dreams, while all those he loved left him.</p><p>Left him all on his own, and died.</p><p>Was he not allowed to be happy? Was it so wrong to wish for someone to hold him dear? What had he done wrong to be treated so harshly by the fates? Or did the Valar simply have no care for one little hobbit heart, easily crushed and tossed aside, of no importance to the greater scheming of this vast world?</p><p> </p><p>Bilbo’s fingers started to lose their feeling as he still had his hand balled in the snow around the flowers, but he barely noticed. He had never thought, he would be able to enjoy the cold months again after the Fell Winter, but with the dwarf, he had started to look forward to them once more. Now he had lost even that.</p><p>He had lost everything. Everything that mattered. Everything but the stupid smial. What use were his riches, when everyone was only hateful and envious of him for them? What use was the stupid gold in the stupid chest of never diminishing coin, but to serve as a painful reminder of the stupid dwarf? What good were those memories of the last four winters, along with a few wooden carvings placed on the shelves in the study? Or the bead on the band around his neck? They were all he had left now, and they would not console him.</p><p>Nothing would ever console him, the hobbit realized with another sob. For he would never see the lump again, never listen to his mesmerizing voice and his beautiful stories again. Would never again hear his haunting songs or scoffs at elven poetry.</p><p>He would never look at those gorgeous blue eyes again.</p><p>Never hug, never touch, never… kiss. Never do anything he realized just now, he wanted to do so badly. Oh, what a fool he had been! He had not even noticed that he had lost his battered little heart to the blockhead, to the stubborn dwarf, to the dirty oaf, to… to Mugr! Not until it had broken in a thousand pieces at the sight of the first spring flowers.</p><p>Oh, why did he have to give his fragile heart away? Giving it to the rude dwarf of all people! He had just right out provoked his ill luck, headed straight for inevitable suffering, basically brought his misery about all by himself…</p><p>But the dwarf had been rude no longer after the first few weeks. He had been gentle and kind, and made Bilbo feel save and cherished like never before. He had been better company than any other hobbit. Had even been attentive and funny despite his evidently harsh life. Honestly, the only thing to keep <em>anyone </em>from loving the big lump, would have been his dirt layer. Bilbo, however, had been allowed to see past his filthy outer appearance. To see the brave, noble soul of the proud and sometimes truly awkward dwarf. Had seen the sadness and the yearning for something he had not understood in his blue eyes, but also the mirth and the intelligence that shone through when they discussed history or (remarkably well planned out) strategies for snowball fights with the Gamgees’ faunts…</p><p>Even at that memory, no smile managed to pull at the hobbit’s lips. He only cried. Cried, wretched and forlorn, for his dwarf and for himself. Because experiences like these were responsible for the state of his desolate heart, which was in so much pain now. Because his dear, dear Mugr would never come home. Would never return to the small, unhappy hobbit. Would never know, how much he had been loved.</p><p>Poor Mugr, always so unsure of his welcome, would never know just how dear he had been to at least this one creature in all of Middle Earth. Dearer than anyone else. And how many tears would be spent over him. How much he would be missed. Oh, how he missed him!</p><p> </p><p>Bilbo simply stayed where he was in his misery. He sat in the melting snow in front of the snowdrops and cried his eyes out, until Lila and young Hamfast found him, herded him back into Bag End, where they wrapped him in blankets and tried in vain to console him in his grief.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Chapter 19</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Spring and summer held no joy for Bilbo that year.</p>
<p>Certainly, he tried his best to go on about life as usual, but at every corner something reminded him of the dwarf. Whenever his peers tried to mock him, he would simply turn around and flee, fighting the tears welling up in his eyes.</p>
<p>It must also be said, however, that he was positively surprised by many of his fellow hobbits. He had noticed the Gamgees’ tries to check on him by bringing him food at any halfway inconspicuous occasion, of course. But also his Uncle Isengrim had invited him to Tuckborough for the summer solstice, where he was pampered by aunts, uncles and cousins alike. Rosemary seemed to come to Hobbiton quite often by chance, and visited him each time. Even Marigold had noticed the clear signs of heartbreak and the good-hearted soul had declared the best remedy to be another love. Therefore, she tried to set Bilbo up with her cousin Lobelia, a nice enough lass, who unfortunately took the hobbit’s rejection to her advances very hard and soon joined the Gastolph followers. Marigold was truly dismayed at that development, but Bilbo forgave her easily enough. She couldn’t have known. Thus, no more arranged dates were planned, for which the young hobbit was rather grateful.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Once, around the end of spring, a dwarven merchant had found his way into the town, and Bilbo, full of hope, dared to ask him whether he knew Master Mugr. The dwarf had looked rather perplexed for a second, before inquiring with a suspicious undertone in his voice, “Mugr? As in… the bear?”</p>
<p>Bilbo nodded frantically, but was promptly disappointed, when the other growled dismissively, “I don’t know any bears, lad. Get lost!”</p>
<p>Thus, the poor hobbit could not even find a lead on what had happened to his winter guest or where his wanderings might have led the secretive dwarf.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As summer ended and the first fall festivals were coming up, Bilbo had managed to get his bearings back in public. He had stopped shutting himself into his smial, and his friends did not look at him like he was about to break any second anymore. Also, the mockery had almost ceased completely. Isengrim and Rosemary might have conspired on that somehow.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Hence, when it was time for the wine-harvest festival, Bilbo found himself seated at the Thain’s table, in the middle of the fairground, and surrounded by hundreds of merry hobbits. He sat between his Aunt Donnamira and Aunt Rosa, who were loading way too much food on his plate, and  tried his best to act amicable, when a commotion from the direction of the nearest road drew everyone’s attention.</p>
<p>A small caravan of dwarves had come from the Blue Mountains and inquired whether it was allowed to participate in the celebrations. Uncle Isengrim, as the Thain, welcomed them among the jolly hobbits, and before the fourteen guests had even been ushered towards any free seats at the tables, Bilbo heard the first rumor about a dwarf king and queen being among the esteemed visitors. How very impressive! Bilbo scoffed inwardly. His aunts were barely able to stay seated, and chattered in excitement as a whole flock of curious hobbits neared their table, Isengrim and three of his guests in the middle.</p>
<p>Two of the dwarves were rather tall, even for their folk, while the third was at about the same height as most of the hobbits. His dark eyes twinkled intelligently from behind an impressive white beard, and Bilbo took an instant liking to him, as did many of the faunts, who trailed behind the old dwarf with huge eyes. It was probably his grandfatherly air. Isengrim introduced him as Master Balin, advisor to the king.</p>
<p>Said king had been seated next to his uncle and introduced as Thorin, son of Thrain. He was a stern looking dwarf, his dark hair long and wavy, and his beard short. Bilbo was a little surprised by that. He had never seen a dwarf with such a short beard. It did make him look rather handsome though, in hobbit eyes, as the many pining lads and lasses, who had crowded around their table, proved. Interestingly enough, he also seemed the only one of the group to not shy away from the vegetables on his plate.</p>
<p>The third dwarf turned out to be a female. Lady Dís, daughter of Thrain and sister to the king. She was a cold beauty, even though the fine, dark beard threw Bilbo off a little. But most stunning were her eyes. They were a beautiful shade of blue, much like those of the dwarf in Bilbo’s heart. The hobbit had to look away from her face to not start crying. Wonderful. He really needed to work on his composure in public <em>again</em>. Stupid Mugr.</p>
<p>But as he averted his gaze from the princess, he caught the eyes of the king. Even worse. They seemed even more intense and had just the same coloring. Of course. They were siblings. Bilbo would have to spend the rest of the day watching the tabletop, if he didn’t want to see any reminders of Mugr. Stupid dwarves.</p>
<p>As Bilbo stabbed at his plate impassively, Isengrim and the dwarves began to talk about the festival, wine, politics and other things.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Your country is beautiful, Master Took,” Master Balin mentioned conversationally, after finishing his plate and allowing one of the faunts to sit in his lap and stick flowers into his forked beard, “however, I must say that I have not seen many defenses. I am aware that Rangers patrol your borders, and you have a small militia called the Bounders, but may I suggest a treaty, where the dwarves of the Blue Mountains offer you protection in exchange for food deliveries. The Shire is plentiful and our mountains are barren, I’m afraid.”</p>
<p>Isengrim paled at that and hurried to assure, “This land is protected quite well, Master Dwarf. I thank you for you offer, but I must ask you to keep your warriors out of the Shire.”</p>
<p>“You misunderstand, Master Took.” The king’s voice, low-pitched and somewhat gruff, sounded for the first time since they had sat down at the table. Bilbo shivered, and quickly trained his eyes on his wine and food again.</p>
<p>“Aye,” Balin added, much more cordially, now with two faunts in his lap, “we wish to offer an alliance of two equal realms. We have heard talk of wolves frequently crossing into the Shire since the Fell Winter. And we have our own people to consider, who are struggling to grow their food on the slopes of the Blue Mountains. We were hoping for a mutually beneficial agreement and we will not pressure you into anything. Nor do we press for the matter to be settled immediately. Please, do think about this proposal and your possible terms for it, though.”</p>
<p>The Thain was nodding then, visibly relieved.</p>
<p>“Maybe a union between our people, not only in the political sense but also in private, would disburden you further?” the Lady Dís mused, “To show our mutual respect and willingness to stand by our agreements, and of course to further the relations of our people…” An approving murmur rose from the throng around their table. “I’ll have you know,” she leaned in, whispering loudly, “my dear brother has taken no spouse as of yet, and seems very interested in marrying one of your people.”</p>
<p>The king’s head whipped to her, growling, “Dís!”</p>
<p>But the damage was already done, for all the sensitive hobbit ears had heard her declaration. Several squeals could be heard from the crowd, and a loud mutter of voices rose up. Bilbo’s aunts turned towards each other to whisper over his head.</p>
<p>Isengrim sat there for a few seconds, with his eyebrows near his hairline. Then he held up a hand to silence the hobbits – with moderate success. “Is it true, King Thorin, that you are willing to wed a hobbit?” he asked the dwarf, who had closed his blue eyes with a slightly pained expression.</p>
<p>“Aye,” he opened them again, and Bilbo quickly looked away, “were it allowed.”</p>
<p>“Well, of course it’s allowed!” Aunt Rosa exclaimed firmly, and immediately scampered out of her seat, muttering, “Where is my little Aldagrim when you need him? He needs to look his best!”</p>
<p>“But Aldagrim is a lad!” one of the crowd pointed out.</p>
<p>“Well, does it <em>matter</em>?” Aunt Rosa asked the dwarves indignantly.</p>
<p>“Oh no, not in the least!” the Lady Dís assured with a delightful smile, which had her brother reach for his brow and groan quietly.</p>
<p>“Then out of my way, you lot!” Rosa called, and their audience began to all at once gossip, squeal, and scramble away. Within seconds, almost all the hobbits had left the table to either make themselves or their charges most presentable, or to tell the most exciting news of the year to any who hadn’t heard yet.</p>
<p>“I might become a queen! Can you imagine?” Bilbo could hear Marigold cheer while rushing away.</p>
<p>“Are you kidding? He is so gonna pick one of us!” Erling Sackville hissed behind her, while Willow nodded and chattered enthusiastically with Lobelia about which flowers to braid in their hair as fast as possible.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Soon, the table was rather deserted, with only Isengrim, rubbing the bridge of his nose and apologizing to a good-natured Master Balin in a low voice, the Lady Dís, who was hiding a grin behind her hand, her brother, and Bilbo remaining.</p>
<p>Said brother let his hand fall from his face and suddenly looked straight at Bilbo, who was really not happy about the attention and cursed himself for not leaving with the others in order to hide back in Bag End until this whole dwarf-business was over.</p>
<p>“What about you? Are you not interested in the hand of a king?” the dwarf asked with a low voice, his unsettling blue eyes intent on the hobbit.</p>
<p>Bilbo thought him quite vain and shrugged. “No, not really.” Then he looked back at the table, concentrating on his nearly empty glass of wine. The red color was quite nice to look at. Mugr would probably compare it to garnets.</p>
<p>The king’s sister stifled a laugh and tried to disguise it as a cough.</p>
<p>“My nephew has been feeling a little under the weather as of late. Maybe even has somewhat of a broken heart, I’m afraid.” Isengrim said mildly, “Do forgive him.”</p>
<p>“I understand.” the dwarf reassured, and reached over the table to hand Bilbo a new glass of wine. The hobbit was a little confused by the gesture but nodded his thanks and then tried to hide behind the glass in order to not be drawn into the conversation again. His plan worked surprisingly well, and since he was left in peace, he returned to staring at his plate, which was still full of food, while sipping on the wine.</p>
<p>Only when something brushed against his lips, did he startle. He felt his brows furrow as he peered into the glass, and then took another tentative sip. There was something in the wine. Great. Probably a spider. And he had almost emptied the drink already. Now that was disgusting. He glanced around, only to find that Lady Dís, Master Balin, and Uncle Isengrim had left the table. Which meant that he was for some reason alone with the dwarven king, who seemed to watch his every move from where he sat. Had he put the spider in his wine? How petty can you be? Bilbo could feel his anger rise. He had half a mind to tell the blockhead where he could shove his probably utterly pretentious crown! But on second thought, he really should not cause an international incident here. Not if he wanted to stay in Isengrim’s favor at least. Tough luck.</p>
<p>Bilbo looked back to his drink and paused. There was a silver glint that not really agreed with the spider-theory. Slowly, he poured the rest of the wine into his old glass, until he could make out a bead. Confused, he let it drop into his hand and studied it. It looked familiar.</p>
<p>His heartrate spiked with the dawning realization. It was Mugr’s bead! Had he lost it? Did he drop it into his drink? How fortunate that it had not fallen anywhere else! His hand flew to where the band around his neck should be, and froze. His necklace was intact. He pulled it over his head and looked at the two beads in confusion.</p>
<p>They were the same.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Chapter 20</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Finale, ohoh! ヽ(✿ﾟ▽ﾟ)ノ*:･ﾟ✧</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Bilbo helplessly stared at the beads in his hands. Suddenly, he remembered the only other person sitting at the table and his head snapped up, wide eyes taking in the dwarf before him. He cut a noble figure. Nothing like Mugr. And his name was not Mugr. But then again, Mugr sometimes hadn’t listened to his name, so maybe he was really called something else. But certainly not Thorin, son of Thrain. No king would refuse to bathe like Mugr had. And he, like all of the dwarves at the party, did look quite clean. Bilbo shook his head and wanted to glance back at the beads in his hands, when the dwarf shifted and spoke.</p>
<p>“I am Mugr.”</p>
<p>Bilbo stiffened. He could feel his eyes begin to water and his nose twitch as he stared at the dwarf king, unable to move a muscle as he tried and failed to process what had been said.</p>
<p>The king slowly rose from his seat, as if he didn’t want to startle the little hobbit even more, and glanced at his hands for a moment. His hands that had no claws but neatly trimmed nails, that were not covered in grime and dirt and blood and soot and whatever else, but were clean and strong, with black hair lightly covering their backs.</p>
<p>“Or, I was Mugr.” he said in that deep and rough voice. But he said it so quietly, so gently. And as he made his way around the table, Bilbo still could do nothing but stare at him, transfixed. “I am the one you allowed to stay with you during four of the last five winters, despite my questionable appearance.” Now that was an understatement.</p>
<p>Then he went down onto his knee in front of the hobbit, and Bilbo still only gaped as the dwarf lord looked straight at him with those blue, blue eyes.</p>
<p>Eyes the color of the winter sky.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Carefully, oh so carefully, Thorin took his hands, still holding the beads, in his big, warm ones and brought them to his mouth. He kissed them, tenderly, and Bilbo shuddered at the feeling of those lips on his knuckles.</p>
<p>Thorin’s eyes never left his face. His whole demeanor was tentative. When he swallowed, Bilbo could see how his throat worked because of the short beard.</p>
<p>“Bilbo, son of Bungo.” Thorin’s voice drew the hobbit’s gaze back up to his face. His clean and noble face, with defined features, thick dark brows, light skin, a straight nose, and pink lips underneath the neat beard. “If you allow it, I would court you. Court you in the manner of your people or mine, whichever you prefer. I would court you and ask for your hand. I would give you whatever you desire, if only you allow me to hold your heart – for my heart has been yours since the first winter.”</p>
<p>Bilbo’s breath hitched.</p>
<p>“You treated me well, when no one else did, and welcomed me into your home. And now I ask you to welcome me into your heart as well, for it is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen, and I treasure it more than my crown, more than my life… If you but allow it, I would love you until the end of our days.”</p>
<p>Thorin trailed off, drawing a deep and shaky breath. His eyes were shining, more open than the hobbit had ever seen them before, and filled with so much emotion.</p>
<p>By then, Bilbo’s tears had started to fall, and he did not seem to be able to stop them. When he tugged his hands away from the dwarf’s to wipe them off his cheeks, Thorin’s brows drew together, his gaze growing desperate and pained for a second, before his expression shut off and turned unreadable at an astonishing speed.</p>
<p>‘Well, we can’t have that.’ Bilbo thought, and reached for his dwarf’s face. At the feeling of the surprisingly soft beard, he let out a wobbly laugh.</p>
<p>Thorin’s shoulders seemed to be immediately relieved of all their tension at the sound. As his head leaned into the touch, the little hobbit couldn’t help but start crying in earnest again. Alarmed, the dwarf reached up to stop his tears, but Bilbo just let himself fall from his seat and into the arms of his Mugr – his Thorin. And when he hugged him tight, and was held by strong, warm arms in return, and smelled not grime and sweat, but metal and resin, he sobbed, “Where have you been, you stupid lump?” In response, Thorin only hugged tighter and pressed a lingering kiss against the side of his head.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What in the name of everything green is going on here?”</p>
<p>At the shrill voice, Bilbo pulled back from his dwarf and felt his cheeks color as he looked around. Not only had most of the hobbits returned, but also Lady Dís and Isengrim had come back with fresh jugs of wine and stood on the other side of the table watching them, his uncle with raised eyebrows, and the dwarven princess with a rather affectionate smile on her face. Master Balin seemed to have been caught by a gaggle of faunts. All the other dwarves had somehow gravitated towards their table, and although trying to act like they were otherwise occupied, each one of them glanced over at every occasion. The hobbits were similarly unsuccessful in acting out their disinterest, and after Willow’s shout most didn’t even bother trying to convince anyone anymore. Thus, they had gained almost all of the party guests as an audience. Great.</p>
<p>Thorin got up from the ground and helped Bilbo stand as well. He turned to the Thain, not releasing the hobbit’s hand, but squeezing it softly.</p>
<p>“Master Took, I ask to court your sister-son, Bilbo Baggins.” he declared with his resounding voice, standing tall and strong, and looking every inch the king he was. Then he tilted his head to look at the young hobbit next to him with his gentle eyes. “If he will have me.”</p>
<p>“Oh, of course I will, you blockhead!” Bilbo exhaled, his voice breaking. Quickly, he stood up on his toes, grabbed the dwarfs face, and pressed his lips against Thorin’s in a short kiss. The king’s eyes widened, and Bilbo could feel his cheeks heat some more when the other dwarves started to applaud and cheer loudly.</p>
<p>Bilbo ducked his head, but Thorin immediately stepped closer to him and put his arms around his back, at first slowly nudging the hobbit towards him, then quickly tightening his hold as a slurred voice sounded from the crowd.</p>
<p>“But why take Mad Baggins? Don’t you know he’s been fucked by some insanely dirty vagabond for years now? Wouldn’t want to touch that!”</p>
<p>“Shut your stupid trap, Gastolph!” Lila Gamgee snapped, surprising everyone, as Marigold hissed with unexpected ferocity, “That’s a lie!”</p>
<p>Hobson nodded enthusiastically, while Rosemary promptly followed with a sharp reprimand. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, you miserable drunkard!”</p>
<p>Isengrim’s face had darkened considerably, and most of Bilbo’s relatives were glaring daggers at the marplot.</p>
<p>But before anyone else could begin to voice their opinions, Thorin snarled. “I will have you know that insults towards my intended, are insults towards myself, <em>Halfling</em>. Those will be paid for with blood.”</p>
<p>Some of the dwarves shifted, making the nearby hobbits give them quite a bit of a space, and a tense silence came over the gathering.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Goodness! Well, now,” Isengrim finally stammered, clearly not liking his position as the Thain all that much at the moment, “still, King Thorin, would you be so kind to explain as to, I mean, why you wish to court my nephew?”</p>
<p>The dwarf inclined his head and looked at the hobbit in his arms. “I have been cursed to wander Arda for seven years as the unclean roamer you have met. I was called Mugr, the bear.”</p>
<p>Several gasps could be heard, but he paid them no mind, still facing only Bilbo, who stared back, overjoyed to be able to look into those blue eyes again.</p>
<p>“Had I washed myself or slept anywhere else but on my bearskin, my life and soul would have been forfeit. Due to my appearance, I was welcome nowhere. Nowhere but in Bag End, where I was treated as an equal, and not a madman or a monster. Where I lost my heart to a beautiful little creature, kinder than any I have met before. And now, even though I have been given back my shape and my crown, I still wish to return to this hobbit, who seems like a greater treasure than gold to me.”</p>
<p>At that, Aunt Rosa let out a sigh, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. Aldagrim next to her was looking rather relieved. A gaudy rose had been tucked behind his ear, which he tried to inconspicuously dispose of now. Several others began to mutter how romantic that was.</p>
<p>“I can’t believe this!” Erling exclaimed over the emerging murmurs, but no one paid attention to him (or Uncle Hugo, who hit him on the back of his head. Hard). Willow had started to wail, while many of the other young hobbits ripped out the flowers in their hair angrily. Some were stomping away (as well as hobbits were able to stomp), trying to run and hide from the increasingly gleeful crowd.</p>
<p>When Thorin’s hand gently cupped Bilbo’s jaw and tilted his head up, the hobbit forgot about his surroundings. As his thumb caressed the soft cheek, the dwarf’s face came slowly closer, until he kissed his hobbit, tenderly and full of love. Bilbo put his hands on the broad chest in front of him. His grip tightened in the fabric as Thorin’s other hand came up to cradle his head and the kiss deepened.</p>
<p>This time, rambunctious cheers could be heard from both, hobbits and dwarves.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Later, back in Bag End, Bilbo just had to ask, “If you have been back in the Blue Mountains for the past months, why have you not written?”</p>
<p>“Ah!” Thorin said, eyes widening in realization.</p>
<p>Bilbo hurled a pan at him as hard as he could.</p>
<p> </p>
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